Dino Dan's Discovery Zone
by EdanFF
Summary: Michelle Schmidt finds work at Dino Dan's Discovery Zone, the competitor to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. There she meets a new cast of characters: Dan Kylo, Tracy Rex, Randy Raptor, and Sarah Tops. Rule 63. Based on the ideas collectively conceived by /5N@F/, the Five Nights at Freddy's thread on 4chan's /vg/ board. Collaboration between myself and Rider Writefag.
1. Week 1, Night 1

The cold December rain, neither a drizzle nor a downpour, fell lazily upon the empty midtown sidewalks. Were it not for the pattering of water against concrete and the occasional drunkard-ferrying taxi, the streets would have been silent. Most businesses were closed, and those which weren't soon would be. The town was small, with few places other than bars providing services at the hour. The time was 11:13 pm, Sunday night.

One location that was open at such a time was Dino Dan's Discovery Zone, a local family restaurant which provided fun and games to children and served as a competitor to another local restaurant known as Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Both establishments harbored similar amenities: cheap food, games, prizes, exhausted parents, and, most notably, a band of animatronic mascots. Fazbear's was a long-standing fixture in the town and thus its characters garnered popularity through familiarity and nostalgia, while Dino Dan's made its livelihood by appealing to the seemingly universal love of dinosaurs harbored by children. Even on such a dreary Sunday night, this appeal proved to be successful as the arcade, paleontology exhibit, and dining area emanated the sound of children's laughter.

Michelle Schmidt stood leaning against the wall of the show area at Dino Dan's Discovery Zone. She was an attractive young woman, though standing at only 5'4'', with smooth, youthful skin, short, silky black hair, shiny brown eyes, and a set of curves which would best be described as generous - not just a prominent chest, but a very vast set of hips; more than enough to earn her an unsavory look from time to time, much to her disdain. She was clad in a white, button-down shirt, accompanied by a black tie and a badge with her name on it, as well as a black leather belt, tight-fitting jeans, and the nicest pair of worn-down sneakers she could find in her closet. This outfit was her work uniform; she had just finished her orientation for her new position as the nighttime security guard at Dino Dan's. Her first shift started at midnight, but she wanted to observe the animatronics which populated the restaurant. She had fond memories of going to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in her childhood - being served pizza by Chica, getting piggyback rides from Bonnie, laughing at Foxy's terrible puns - and she wanted to see how the competitor stacked up. She was a bit pensive at first, though the thought of working with small children would unnerve anyone. It didn't help that she was already uncomfortable with the circumstances of her employment; taking a low-paying security job just to scrape by wasn't exactly her ideal situation. Despite this, she found a bit of warmth in the proxied nostalgia of the place, down to every cheesy child-friendly decoration. Her shift didn't start for a few more minutes; plenty of time to bask. Her eyes scanned over the late night crowd: mostly small, close-knit families enjoying an evening indulgence on behalf of the youngsters, more smiles than grimaces. It was honestly hard for her to believe this place still had patrons this late on a Sunday night, especially since Fazbear's had so much more notoriety, but the cries of children are a hard thing to ignore.

With the reverb of a dramatic chord, Michelle's attention turned stage-side, the main attraction finishing up their admittedly catchy set. The four animatronic characters, each representing a different dinosaur, were going through the rounds, acting as if they were winded from their pre-recorded exploits. The titular Dino Dan, a rather hefty looking Ankylosaur, shuffled his way forward to the edge of the platform, seemingly winded, as he spoke to the audience.

"Now, children," he said, waving a hand at the cheering crowd of younglings before him, "I know you're excited, but Unky Dan needs to rest his old bones. We're closing in a few minutes, you know."

His small audience let out a collective whine, to which Dan responded with a chuckle.

"Now, now," he said, "we're not going anywhere. You'll just have to wait to see us again. And patience is very important." He turned his head to establish eye contact with each of the children as he imparted his wisdom.

"Aww, come on Dan. Don't leave the little dudes hanging on that bit of boring." The diminutive Velociraptor on his right came up next to him, electric guitar in hand and sunglasses up. "We're not going anywhere guys so make sure you come back and see us! I promise Dan'll be a bit cooler by then."

"Oh, hush now," Dan scolded. He turned to the kids, placed a hand next to his mouth, and whispered: "I'm too old and stubborn to change how 'cool' I am."

The children laughed, easing their earlier disappointment.

"Don't take it personally Dan," the sizable Tyrannosaur broke in, a thick Australian accent on her tongue. " Randy's just a bit of a drongo. You know we appreciate ya, you old battler. Besides, it's your name on this place anyway!"

"Yes, Tracy," Dan laughed, "I suppose you're right."

He stood up, giving Michelle a clearer view of his form; were it not for his friendly speech, one would easily be intimidated by him, as he sported a thick brow, hunched back, and almost samurai-like armored plating. He wasn't taller than Tracy was, at least without standing up straight, but his stocky shape made the details of his person the easiest to discern with the crowd in the way. He clasped his hands together and looked at the children.

"Well, it's time to go now," he sighed.

Another collective moan from the audience.

"Come now, children," a soft female voice said.

The voice belonged to the only member of the band who had not yet spoken, and who had remained hidden behind the other animatronics; she was very difficult to see from the angle Michelle was looking from, but the top of her head shone and indicated that she was a Triceratops. She gestured with her hands to tell the children to turn around. They obeyed, and she walked them back to the other side of the room where their parents were waiting. As she did so, she hummed a peaceful lullaby, to which some of the kids joined in. They all said goodbye to her and returned to their parents, relaxed and ready to leave. Michelle was a bit in awe of what she'd just witnessed, how a pack of soda-fueled children were so easily calmed by that animatronic's voice. It was almost surreal but sure as day, the families began to depart, grins on both parent and child alike. A small smile cracked on Michelle's visage as well, a touch of hope for the coming shift. She turned to the hallway nearby and made her way to her office.

The office was a modest but somewhat cramped space, consisting of a table, an aged office chair, and an old desktop computer that looked like it had been found by many a child, various stickers and crayon graffiti defacing it. On top of the wood, there was a sizable packet about as thick as Michelle's thumb labeled: "Dino Dan's Employee Handbook and Reference Guide." Despite sitting through two hours of what had to be the most deadpan orientation delivery her manager could provide, there was a bit of time to kill while the staff closed up shop; may as well pass it somehow. A brief leafing through showed it to be presented as if it was written by the restaurant's characters, a bit of a cute departure from the usual boilerplate these kind of manuals were known for. A look through the Nightly Duties chapter had Dan acting as narrator.

'Now as you know, Dino Dan's Discovery Zone is a place of whimsy, wonder, and wild times but that doesn't just happen on its own, now. You, as a member of our staff, are a part of that process now and though you may not realize it, have a responsibility to make sure it keeps on going strong. After all, I can't move these old bones as fast as I used to! Now, onto your duties. If you're here as a chef, turn to page 14. Security, turn to page 20. If you're management, then please grab the attached packet, we have a lot to cover about how you're going to run my show. Chances are, not as well as me but we can try.'

A light chuckle escaped Michelle as she made her way through, the anecdotes providing a nice bit of levity to an otherwise dull career choice. Page 20 gave the reigns over to Tracy, now seen wearing a guard hat along with her usual checkered bandanna.

'Good onya mate for taking up one of the most crucial jobs here at Dino Dan's: Security. Now I know what you're thinking: How much is there really to do in a simple little job like this? Well let me give ya the good oil: Right now you're in charge of either keeping the ankle biters or me and my bandmates out of harm's way.'

Michelle took a moment to soak in the confusion induced by the alien slang.

'Now believe me, this is nowhere to veg out. During the waking hours, it's up to you to keep the kids from going too bonkers and keep the older folks from causing a ruckus up in here. Sounds straight iffy, right? But it's the real dinky-di. You wouldn't believe some of the things we've dealt with here. I can see the worried look on your face already but don't worry, normally that badge of yours is more than enough to solve most tiffs. Come night, things get a bit easier. You're really just looking out for the crooks and mongrels and keeping 'em from having a go at our business. Remember, it's up to you. We've gotta sleep sometimes!'

Michelle would never be more thankful for the glossary section of a book in her life. Still, at least things seemed simple enough. She turned towards the computer. She turned it on and, after a lengthy boot sequence, she double-clicked on the desktop icon labeled 'DanCams.' Upon startup, the program displayed the time, 12:09 am, a small map of the restaurant with labeled buttons where each room was, and a live camera feed of the show stage, for which the corresponding map button was lit. A cycle through each button exposed roughly a dozen areas of the complex, ranging from views of the hallways, the kitchen, and one in the employee break room. The picture blurred and a carrying a fair bit of static, but it was adequate enough. As she clicked the icon for the main stage, she was met with the sight of the animatronics from earlier hunched over and deactivated, their mechanical souls gone quiet. It was a bit odd for Michelle at first, having spent many an afternoon at Fazbear's during her youth, to see the entertainers, those vibrant characters, just laying lifeless on stage. It was only after a few moments of musing that she realized that one of them was oddly misplaced. Dan was in his oversized rocking chair, Randy leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed in rebellion of some manufactured norm, and Sarah was just barely in view behind one of the heavy stage curtains. But Tracy was nowhere to be found, her bass guitar propped atop a lonely crate. It's not like she could still be walking around; all of them were up on deck before closing. Maybe she was in back for maintenance?

In the midst of her slightly miffed concluding, her attention was drawn by a sudden knock at her door. Her eyes turned towards gateway with frightened haste, body tensing up. If her job description was to be believed, all of the other employees should have gone home by this point. Had someone broken in? Or had one of them waited until they could be alone? As she reached into her purse for her stun gun, a voice began to accompany the knocking. It was of an odd quality, sounding like a mixture of tones and inflections cut together.

"Oi Nighter, you there? I heard you were new so I wanted to know who was making their quid here. You are in there, right?"

Wait. That voice. Those words she still couldn't really grasp. The missing animatronic. A look of pure incredulity worked its way onto Michelle's face as her mind put together the pieces that had no business fitting.

"...Tracy?" her voice rang out, touches of confusion hanging on each syllable.

"Strewth! Figured you'd want some company if you're staying up 'til sparrow's fart."

"...What?"

A somewhat modulated sounding sigh can be heard escaping the technological Tyrannosaur. "Dawn. Sorry, dawn. I keep forgetting they use me in Yank land. I hope I'm not the only one here realizing how awkward it is for us to be talking through a piece of metal."

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Michelle said to herself before rolling her chair over to the bright red button on the wall labeled 'DOOR.' With a moment's hesitation, she pressed it.

The metal slab separating the two lifted, disappearing into the wall, revealing the anthropomorphic T-Rex automaton behind it. Up close, Michelle was able to survey her appearance far more clearly than before. As if her large jaw and clawed extremities weren't intimidating enough, Michelle estimated she was about 6'2''. Her eyes, large and yellow with slit-shaped pupils, were each decorated with two oversized cartoon-character eyelashes. Her chassis, built to simulate an athletic physique, consisted of a layer of green, rubbery synthetic skin atop a plastic shell. Her tail featured a dull yellow underside, separated by thin black lines every few inches, continuing up her torso and stopping at her collar. Paperlike, light green spikes ran from the back of her head to the tip of her tail, those between her neck and tail being smaller than the others. On her neck she wore a red, checkered bandanna turned slightly to her left and kept a pair of sunglasses resting above her brow.

"Much better," Tracy said, looking up at the slot the door had retreated to.

She turned her gaze downward, towards Michelle, scanning her up and down. Michelle couldn't help but feel an onset of anxiety as she watched a large robot with unknown intentions look her over. Tracy's eyes stopped moving and she smiled. A sudden flash of movement right before her caused Michelle to flinch, shutting her eyes.

Tracy chuckled. "Relax, Sheila."

Michelle opened her eyes to see Tracy offering her hand. After hesitating for a moment, Michelle reached out and took it.

"Sorry," Michelle said as they shook hands. "Never interacted with a sentient robot before. Wasn't sure what you were going to do."

Tracy let go of Michelle's hand. "I take it you had those old stories about Fazbear's in mind?"

"Couldn't really help it," Michelle said with a nervous chuckle.

Tracy walked towards Michelle's desk. "They ain't true, ya know," she said.

"I figured," Michelle replied. "Company wouldn't still be around if something like that actually happened. Just hard to keep it out of my head when a huge animatronic dinosaur is staring me down."

Tracy looked at Michelle silently.

"Um, no offense," Michelle said.

Tracy propped herself up on Michelle's desk, sitting with her legs crossed.

"So, what do you think of the old joint so far?" she asked.

"Reminds me of better times, that's a plus," Michelle answered. "Was surprised to see so many kids here so late on a Sunday."

"Yeah, well, we've had more in the past." Tracy looked off to the side in thought for a moment.

Tracy absentmindedly crossed her legs again, causing Michelle to detect a feature of hers that had previously gone unnoticed; a surprisingly curvaceous figure. Her chest may have been flat, but she sported a pair of thick, distractingly shapely thighs. Michelle hypothesized that they were either there to be true to T-Rex anatomy or to provide a little something for the bored father waiting for his child's party to end. Michelle hastily darted her eyes back upward as Tracy turned her gaze toward Michelle again.

"You met any of the others during the day?" Tracy asked.

"No, I just watched you guys perform from the back of the room."

"Well," Tracy said, grabbing the edges of the desk and leaning forward, "you should know that we're not all quite the same between the day and the night."

"Speaking of which, " Michelle interjected, "exactly how are we doing this right now? I mean, no offense, but you're a singing robot for a kids' restaurant."

"Yes, and?"

"So, it kinda seems like this'd be a little out of your range."

"Eh, however it happened, it happened. Me and the others have been like this long as I can remember. During the day's when we let all of the scripted stuff happen. The night's all ours though."

"Wait, if all of you can do this, why'd only you show up?"

"Curiosity, really. Been a while since we've had a night guard so wanted to see who was wearing the hat and badge." Her tone began to take on a much colder edge as she continued. "That and well, the others are a bit… dodgy, to say the least. Randy's either being his pigheaded self or hanging out with the bat from Fazbear's, Sarah's afraid of her own shadow, and don't even get me started on Dan. Right bunch of crazies."

A look of worry mixed with confusion came over Michelle's face upon seeing the odd amount of vitriol coming from the mechanical dinosaur. "Is it really that bad? Kinda seemed like you guys were decent friends on stage."

"When we're following script, sure. After that, we pretty much keep to our respective circles, not for lack of trying though." In the midst of her venting, Tracy looks over to Michelle's visage, noting the startled expression upon it. A heavy, warbled sigh left her mouth as she dismounted the desk, a look of slight embarrassment in her eyes. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have just dropped that on you like that. To be honest with ya, I mean completely honest, the nighters are the only people I can talk to around here. I'm just sick of trying and getting nowhere with those ponces. I'm uh, I'm gonna go blow off some steam for a bit, get my head back on straight. What's your name, by the way? Kinda got too wrapped up in things to ask."

"It's Michelle. And it's no problem really; I'm just surprised, is all."

"Been nice talking to ya, Chelle. Hopefully, next time I can keep it a bit more upbeat."

With that said Tracy made a turn towards the door, right hand up in a friendly wave as she made her way out, Michelle taking a slightly too long gaze at the molded thighs of the animatronic Tyrannosaurus. A bit of blush found its way into her cheeks at the odd thoughts brought on by such a peculiar design choice.

Once Tracy was out of sight, Michelle closed the door and returned to the cameras. Awkward as her conversation with Tracy had been, Michelle was wishing she hadn't left; she still had a long night ahead of her. Hours of just waiting for some kind of noise to emanate from the computer, signaling her to check the cameras, only to find that the disturbance was caused by the building settling. One thing that was of note, however, was her discovery that the other animatronics had left the positions they were lying in earlier. Dan was sauntering down the halls and Sarah was looking around the party area, occasionally nudging askew decorations into place. Tracy had gone back to her paleontology exhibit, and seemed to be studying the pieces there. Randy, however, was nowhere to be seen. Michelle pondered where he could have gone. Tracy said something about a bat at Fazbear's, but Michelle was unsure if she was talking about some new animatronic or if she was just rattling off more Australian slang. She certainly never remembered a bat character from her childhood visits to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, but it had been so long since then. Who knows what could have changed in that time.

Michelle continued to monitor the restaurant, occasionally checking on the animatronics, but she ultimately sidelined the constant monitoring in favor of solitaire. All she had to do was listen for loud noises and give an occasional glance to the minimized DanCams window on the side of the screen. Though she would have preferred more games to choose from, time did seem to pass with merciful celerity when she had something to do. Soon enough, Michelle looked at the clock and saw it was 5:38. Not much longer until the end of her shift. That's when a knock came to Michelle's door once again, startling her.

"Good morning, dear night watchman. Care for a chat with a fellow employee?" The voice coming through the door had a distinct southern twang to it with just the faintest bit of static hiding on its edge.

Raising up from her ragged chair, Michelle grabbed hold of the doorknob with a pang of curiosity. Really, she was wondering why it had taken another of the characters this long to come see her. Opening the door revealed none other than Dino Dan himself, a stocky, slightly hunched Ankylosaur with a chassis of an aged bronze color. His build was almost like that of a sumo wrestler, with a muscular-looking chest accompanying a rotund belly. Unlike Tracy, he carried a bit more wear and tear to him, patches of the scaling on his back beginning to peel and fray. In an oddly cute way, he uses the club-like end of his tail as a walking stick by pulling the appendage around to his front and using it to balance himself. There was an air of implied benevolence to him, the soft, slightly older features to him invoking the feel one would have while with their grandparents. Upon seeing him, Michelle had to wonder what about him could bring up so much of Tracy's ire. As Dan shuffled in, he took a long, scanning glance of Michelle, mechanical eyes sizing her up in a very objective, almost unsettling way.

"Well, I must say: you are quite the sight, Miss Night Guard. It's been quite the expanse since we've had nightly security here; here's hoping you'll do as well as our last."

"I'll do my best at least," Michelle answered earnestly. "It's a bit surprising that a place like this even really needs a night guard though. I mean, who really wants to break into a kid's restaurant?"

"Are you really that short-sighted?"

"...E-excuse me?" Michelle was genuinely taken aback by the curt comment that just left the mascot before her.

"Do you really believe this job carries no weight? Tell me, say someone managed to get in here after dark. Found their way into some oft-overlooked area and decided that would make a nice hidey-hole. Do you understand what danger that could pose to the patrons? To the assets of this company? Your actions here could be the very difference between life and death, Miss Night Guard, and I refuse to let you take that for granted."

Michelle couldn't help but scowl. "Doubtful. And my name is Michelle, by the way."

Dan leaned down, putting his face uncomfortably close to Michelle's. "Always cover your bases," he said. "You never know what might happen."

Tracy's unfavorable views of her partner became much more apparent to Michelle; his condescending nature and general lack of humor would put a knot in anyone's stomach. "All right, all right, I get it. I'll be a bit more… what's a good word for this? Oh, yeah. Diligent. This job is important after all."

"I'm very glad to hear that from you. It's always been my displeasure to work with the youths of this era. So brash, so brazen as to the point of abandoning all caution. But you? You at least have some understanding of what goes on, even if you need a nudge or two in the right direction. I'll be looking forward to dealing with you, Miss Night Guard. Here's hoping you'll make me proud." He glanced at the clock in the corner of the room. "It seems that your shift is almost over so allow me to dispense some words of wisdom before I go. The characters here: myself, Sarah, Tracy, and Randy? We carry a heavy weight. The joy of the children that come through those doors everyday is dependent upon our well-being. We could honestly use your help maintaining that. If not for our sake but for theirs. There is nothing more wretched in this world than allowing a child to be in despair."

With that said, he turned away from the night guard, slightly fuming in her seat, making his exit without another word. When he left, Michelle closed the door once more and turned back to her desk to get ready to leave. All the while, her annoyance with Dan ate at her mind. She was amazed by how rude he had been. Then, as Michelle was shutting down the computer, she reluctantly admitted to herself that his reasons for being so overbearing were probably valid. Maybe. She didn't like having to alter her preconceived notions of people, but she had to submit that he was just very concerned about the company.

Michelle exited the building through the front door at 6:00 am. Only the slightest hint of sunlight seemed present in the sky as she locked up. Other employees would be in soon enough to take over.

As she stepped through the puddles on the way to her old hand-me-down car, she took one more look back at her new place of employment, trying to process the bizarre series of events she had just encountered. Strangely, an odd sense of excitement found its way amidst her bewilderment, harkening back to childhood days. She turned back, got in her car, and drove off into the cloudy horizon.


	2. Week 1, Night 2

As Michelle's car moved across the night-draped city, a light snow began to fall, giving the world around her a milky veneer. After her experience at Dino Dan's, meeting the machines that had reached beyond their programming and grasped onto something close to life, reality seemed a fair bit more fantastic. What kind of programming anomaly does it take to create such sentience in a band of animatronics? Was it intentional? And despite the happiness they could inspire in kids, why did Tracy and Dan seem so inherently somber? What were the other two bots like? So many questions raced through Michelle's mind; far more than she would have ever expected to encounter from a low-paying security gig.

Within seconds, the facility began to take shape over the horizon, the massive sign with cartoon versions of the characters greeting passers-by and patrons alike. As she eased her car into the parking lot, Michelle became aware of just how lonely this place must get at night. The lot felt almost too grand for the business and Michelle's aging hatchback did very little to fill that space. Her thoughts turned to Dan and the other characters; if they'd had their intelligence for so long, she could only imagine how they'd been weathering the nights. She realized how much time she had been spending just staring at the place in rumination, and decided to hurry towards the doors before she made herself late.

The building had already been cleared out, the last of the regular employees gone far before Michelle had arrived. The business did close early on weekdays but it still felt off that no one was there to at least make sure she showed up. It was something she didn't notice while in the office, but at night the facility took on an almost ominous air, shadows and ambient sounds made to occupy the empty space. Even the show stage took on an oddly cavernous feeling with its usual members departed. Oddly enough, the animatronics were nowhere to be seen during her walk to the security office. Michelle gathered that they must spend a portion of the nights in "sleep" mode. As she settled into the somewhat stifled office, she activated the computer, the hums and whirs of the case echoing throughout. As bootup finished, the time read out to just before midnight. She gave a relieved sigh, glad to see her musing hadn't cost her points with this new job. Switching over to the DanCams, she took a quick survey of the facility. Dan seemed to be mired in something out in the arcade but Michelle was just a bit more content to know she didn't have his attention. Tracy was still asleep behind the stage. Despite going through two full sweeps of the feeds, the remaining two members, Randy and Sarah, were nowhere to be seen. Randy was gone the night before, and Sarah seemed like the type to prefer being out of sight, but Michelle didn't like being unable to keep track of two of the robots she was supposed to be keeping safe. Considering the hospitality that Tracy showed her and Dan… attempted to show her, Michelle decided that it might be for the best to go looking for them. After all, if anything happened to them, it was on her head. She was just about to hit the door button when she heard a rapid knocking on the other side. Figuring it might be Tracy again, she proceeded to open the door.

Having expected Tracy, Michelle had to turn her head down to see her diminutive new visitor. Standing in front of the door was the restaurant's guitar-playing animatronic raptor, Randy. He stood at a mere 4', looking up at Michelle from behind his sunglasses, one eyebrow raised. He was the same color as Tracy, though the underside of his tail was a lighter shade of yellow than hers. To accompany his short stature, he also sported a very scrawny build, devoid of the simulated muscle and fat that Dan had. Aside from his sunglasses, his attire consisted of an old, black cotton jacket, its hood down and its zipper undone to show a worn-out blue T-shirt featuring an older version of the Dino Dan's Discovery Zone logo and a drawing of the animatronic band performing. These two articles were his only clothing, though they were clearly a size too large for him, the shirt hanging just slightly and the jacket resting on the base of his tail, which he was swaying up and down as he surveyed Michelle. How many times was she going to be looked over by a robot like that?

A smile formed on Randy's muzzle. "Well, what do we have here?" he said slyly.

Randy walked into the office past Michelle, looking the dingy place over before settling his gaze back on her.

"Um… Hi," Michelle greeted him, curious about his presence.

Randy placed one hand on the wall to his right and the other on his hip. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing working at a place like this?"

Alright, Michelle thought, a robot is hitting on you. She had already gone into work with a great deal of confusion in her mind, and things had just become much stranger. She couldn't help but find it amusing that he had called her a pretty "little" thing, and had to stifle a chuckle.

"Excuse me?" she responded.

"Say, do you have a stopwatch?"

"...Wha-"

"Because you're making my heart race."

Michelle stared at him, dumbfounded. She was used to hearing bad pickup lines on a fairly regular basis, but never from a tiny robot dinosaur at a children's restaurant. She was at a complete loss for words. Randy tilted his head upward to meet her confused gaze, light from the fluorescent above gleaming dimly against his plastic shades, before cracking a wry smile.

"Oh, I gotcha," the raptor started, making no attempt to hide the smugness in his voice. "You weren't expecting that kind of charisma from a guy like me. No worries, I have that effect on the ladies from time to time. So, let me introduce myself. I'm Randy the Raptor, absolutely sick guitarist, certified babe magnet, and the most radical dinosaur that ever was or will be. Nice to meetcha. So what say you and me get to know each other a little better? Maybe over a pizza? Got plenty of back stock in the fridge."

Perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of an animatronic Velociraptor trying to ask her out, but Michelle found herself more amused than anything with the situation. In the back of her mind, however, it made her wonder why Tracy had such a negative, almost spiteful reaction to the thought of him last night. Randy seemed completely harmless to Michelle, a dork trying to act like he was cool. If anything, his lack of charm was charming.

"Uh, maybe later," Michelle replied, trying not to audibly giggle. "Anyways, I wanted to ask you, where were you last night? I looked at all the cameras and I never managed to find you."

"Oh," Randy responded, his smile faltering slightly. "I was visiting a friend."

Instantly Michelle's mind raced with the implications of such a statement. She had a lot of questions to ask.

"So you can just leave whenever you want?"

"As long as I'm back before morning, yeah," Randy replied. "We haven't had a night guard for a long time. I've been going out a night a week for a couple months now. Besides, it's all good, I can take care of myself. I'm like a ninja."

He put his hands up in a pseudo combat stance. Once again, Michelle had to restrain laughter at such a corny gesture. She had to concede, however, that he was probably right; if he could keep going out on a regular basis for several months, there probably wasn't much to worry about.

"So, I was wondering, what's the deal with… all this? Like, you guys being able to talk and move around on your own and all that?"

"Eh, I can't really say I know for sure. Dan says it might be because of some 'revolutionary' computer program we were built with but to be honest, whenever the old man starts talking, I just kinda tune him out. All I know for sure is that about half a year ago I started… dreaming, I guess? I don't know, it was weird. Like, I was seeing replays of the day shift but I could change things around if I thought about it enough. Eventually, I saw myself as one of the kids out in the audience during one of our shows and it was just the most metal thing ever. It was the first time I ever saw my bodacious bod; I was aware of myself, but I didn't know… who I was, I guess. A few days later, I woke up during sleep mode for the first time and found out it had happened to everyone else too."

With a quick motion, the raptor had removed his sunglasses, revealing the ruby eyes beneath, and stared into his reflection in an uncharacteristically wistful way. Michelle couldn't place why, but something in his eyes conveyed a sense of tiredness, as if a robot could somehow be sleep-deprived.

He continued: "I talked to everyone. I saw the bathrooms, the kitchen, and this office. I looked out the windows and saw the city. And it was so awesome! For the first time, I felt free, like nothing could stop me. There's a massive world outside of this building, things I was never built to know, and I just want to see all of it."

Michelle was a bit surprised at the raptor's spiel, given his meat-headed tactics at the start of his visit. He seemed genuine, just looking to get the most out of his newfound life. She really couldn't imagine a life where things were known but nothing was really experienced; the concept was too alien to her. Was all of that cheese he was spouting earlier all he really knows about? The myriad questions in Michelle's mind seemed to multiply rather than find answers. Michelle realized she was staring into space, and Randy took notice.

"Sorry, got a bit deep there with ya," he said, putting his sunglasses back on. "You know, I never got your name."

"Oh. Michelle." What was with these robots and forgetting to ask her name first? Perhaps they were still learning how to interact with people.

Randy smiled again. "Pretty name for a pretty girl," he mused.

Michelle heard footsteps coming from behind the office, quickly approaching the entrance. She turned around to see Tracy standing in the doorframe, arms crossed and an angry expression on her face.

"Oi!" she yelled, eyes on Randy. "Dan told you to sweep the bloody stage! Get on it!"

In spite of Tracy's anger, Randy lit up at the sight of her. "Woah, two bodacious babes at once? Don't you two go fighting over me."

Tracy growled in response, her rageful expression intensifying. She stomped over to Randy and grabbed him by the collar.

"Hey, dinner and a movie first!" he said in a futile attempt to sound confident.

Tracy walked over toward the doorway, stopped for a moment, and shoved Randy out, almost tossing him onto the ground.

"Do your damned work!" she yelled.

Michelle couldn't see, but Randy presumably ran off, as she didn't hear any more cheesy one-liners after that altercation. Tracy turned around to face Michelle, dusting her hands.

"Sorry 'bout him," she said. "Obnoxious little wanker."

Michelle was dubious about her attitude. "That was a bit much," she said. "He seemed pretty harmless to me."

"Wait, what? How'd you go five minutes with that drongo without bashing his head in?"

"I don't know, it was kind of cute in a weird way. Like he was trying too hard to look cool."

"Chelle, trust me here. Trying too hard is all that little creep does. He just can't get anything to register in that dense skull of his. It might seem innocent now, but you'll realize what an absolute dill he is. You try listening to that disgusting way he creeps on you for months on end and see if you don't go mad."

"Alright, I got it." Michelle was taken aback by Tracy's anger. She decided it was best to drop the subject. "You been okay?" she asked.

Tracy's expression calmed somewhat. "Fine," she sighed. As she had the night before, she made her way to Michelle's desk and sat down on its surface. "Got another customer complaint during the day shift."

"'Bout what?" Michelle asked.

"The thighs."

"Oh," Michelle muttered. So she wasn't the only one who noticed. "Yeah, I can relate. Not complaints, really, but some… unwanted attention."

Tracy smirked. "So all of the Randys but none of the soccer moms?"

"For the most part, yeah," Michelle said with a laugh. "You know, I've really gotta wonder how you and the rest of them put up with people during day shift. I mean, screaming kids, pervy dads, and all that chaos must wear on you."

"Eh, the pre-recorded stuff really takes care of it for us. We can hear and see it but it's more like us watching a show, you know? The kids, I can forgive. Nippers don't know much better and seeing 'em smile and climb onto ya they way they do's kinda endearing. The blokes, well, that's a whole nother can of worms. I catch 'em, you know. Staring at my lucky country, if you catch my drift. Then the Sheilas catch wind and complain to the management. I just can't win."

"Know that feeling way too well, trust me," Michelle replied, a bit of nostalgic comfort in her voice. "You wouldn't believe how many dirty looks I got from girls in high school because their boyfriends had roaming eyes. You just keep on keeping on, I say."

The two of them shared a laugh at this, Michelle's carrying a humor she hadn't found in a long while and Tracy's an underlying pang of relief and muted static. "You know Chelle," the Tyrannosaur began, "you're pretty all right. Makes me wonder what a girl like you's doing in a place like this."

"Eh," she uttered as she shrugged her shoulders, "road of life takes you places you'd never really expect."

"Sounds dinkum to me," Tracy said as she rose from her seat. "Well, Chelle, thanks for the chat. Needed something to break up the monotony around here. All the old man ever does is have us fix up the place. It's like we don't have janitors or something and he can't be arsed to do it himself."

"That… is a little weird, yeah." Michelle had never stopped to ask why the bots had chores to do in the first place. It did seem like something the day staff would be on top of.

"Eh, whatcha gonna do? Alright, I'm off. Just remember, if the little piker comes in here again just holler and I'll sort him out for ya. You have a nice one, eh?"

With a grace that seemed uncanny for a machine, Tracy made her way out of the office, tail slightly scraping against the doorframe. As it would seem, her disposition towards Randy was one that wasn't going to change anytime soon. With a scoot of her hips, the night guard shifted her chair back towards the antique computer and made another round through the security program. Dan was off doing something she couldn't care less about in the arcade, Randy was faking a guitar solo with his broom on stage, and Tracy had set up in the kitchen, putting away the unorganized utensils and plates. As Michelle finished her lap of the complex, something caught her eye on the camera just behind her office door. It was hard to make out but she could see the image of a horn and a small bit of metal peeking out from behind a wall. Michelle had been curious as to where the last member of Dan's band had been and ironically enough, it was nearly under her nose. She rose from her chair, making the small trek to the entrance and peered her head towards the back of the building, finding the robot still in her hiding place.

"Uhm, what are you doing back there?"

A small shocked vocalization, something akin to a squeak met with a gasp, answered her. "Oh nothing, just ah… enjoying the scenery!"

"You're in front of the bathrooms."

Michelle was met with silence.

"Look," Michelle began, adding a disarming tone to her voice."You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm here to help you guys."

"...It's not that I'm afraid of you really…"

"Then why not come out from there so we don't have to talk through walls?"

"Okay, okay, I'll come out."

An animatronic Triceratops emerged from behind the wall, her gaze averting Michelle's and her hands behind her back. She was just a few inches taller than Michelle at 5'8'', including the two inch-long plastic horns which protruded from her head. She was a slightly lighter, more dull green than her colleagues, and lacked a yellow underbelly similar to theirs. On the whole she had a more simplistic design, lacking any accessories or color changes. She had a youthful aesthetic, an innocent look in her big, shiny magenta eyes, soft features, and a more modest figure than Tracy's, bearing curves without exaggeration; she even looked to be slightly plump. Perhaps it was her soft, high-pitched voice or something in the way she moved, but Michelle could feel a sense of innocence and naivete about her.

"Hey," Michelle said, "now I remember you. You're Sarah Tops, right?"

She looked at Michelle and quickly nodded before looking back down at her feet.

"Yeah, I saw you perform the other day. You were good." She smiled and stuck her hand out. Sarah looked at her a moment before sheepishly reaching out and shaking it. "My name is Michelle."

"You… you really liked it?" Michelle could hear a bit of excitement creep its way into Sarah's voice.

"Of course. I've never seen anyone calm down a group of kids like that."

"Well, to be honest, that was me on day shift, but thank you for the compliment anyway." There was a very reserved, almost unnecessarily polite candor to her speech. "I mostly work with the younger children so it's nice to hear praise from an adult."

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" Michelle asked. "Because you didn't think I'd like you?"

"Well, I didn't really know how you'd react to… well, how I am? I mean, people wouldn't really be used to the idea of a walking, talking animatronic. That and I just didn't really want to bother you. Your job is really important after all."

A light chuckle escaped Michelle at the thought of that sentiment. "Trust me Sarah, without you guys my job would be six hours of staring at a computer. I appreciate the company even if some of it's a little grating."

"Grating?"

"Eh, me and Dan didn't exactly hit it off well last night. He came off a little colder than he needed to be."

"Oh. I know Dan can be a bit on the nose about things, but he does mean well. He's just looking out for us and the business, after all."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Michelle grumbled. "You know, I've never actually seen you with the others, why is that exactly? You seem pretty friendly from where I'm standing."

Almost immediately, her eyes darted from Michelle down to her stubby feet, an air of unease swirling about her. "I just… don't want to get in their way, is all. I mean, who really wants someone like me poking around in their business? I don't really bring much to the table, as the saying goes."

A look of confusion mixed with worry arose on Michelle's visage. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, Dan's the face of the business, Tracy has the science exhibits, and Randy plays with the kids. I'm just off in a wing keeping the toddlers busy, if anything. I really can't imagine we'd have anything in common."

"Have you tried?"

"Uhm...well, I know about them at least! Tracy can be really nice if someone hasn't gotten her angry, Randy's really cool and has good jokes from time to time and even has his friend over once in a while, and Dan's very caring but just a little distant at times."

"Yeah, that's all well and good but have you, you know, sat down and had a conversation with them?"

"...No…" Sarah's tail swished from side to side slowly, her discomfort making itself known.

"Well, what's stopping you?"

"It...it's complicated, okay? You see, this is what I meant when I said I didn't want to inconvenience people. This always ends up happening. I always end up…" Sarah's hands had balled into fists and a look of distraught made its way onto her mechanical face. "I'm sorry. I always end up doing this. I think it might be best for me to go; it's almost time for the day shift and I've taken up too much of your time. Please forgive me."

With a hurried gait, Sarah quickly made her way down the hall, bypassing Michelle, and headed towards the main stage. The night guard considered giving chase but seeing the genuine sadness in that machine made Michelle stay her hand and leave Sarah alone for the time being.

Michelle rubbed her forehead. She didn't think it was possible for her to come out of her second night of work even more befuddled than before, but lo and behold, the social anxieties of the singing robot dinosaurs she guarded kept piling on. There was something simultaneously mystifying and vexing about the whole experience, to be front and center for a group of sentient machines trying to figure out themselves and each other with no one else even having a clue that this was going on but her. As Michelle stood in the haze of her own processing, the rhythmic beeping of the DanCams program alerted her that it was 6:00; an entire night had gone in what felt like minutes. As she made her way out of the building, her eyes turned towards the ensemble on stage, the four mascots already set back up for a new day, toothy grins on each of their faces. Upon opening the door and making her way out to her car, Michelle couldn't help but realize just how hollow some of those smiles were.


	3. Week 1, Night 3

It was a saccharine, comforting scent that filled the small vehicle, a dozen fresh doughnuts drowning out the usual tinge of tobacco left behind by its previous owner. The treat was a temptation Michelle usually resisted, but she could not help but cave in on occasion and come up with some excuse to reward herself. In this case, it was for her success in orienting herself to her strange new occupation. Even as she drove, Michelle found it difficult not to reach into the box and gorge upon the sweet, sugary wheels within. It's not like anyone would be there to chastise her for getting too comfortable with the position; Dan's would be long cleared out by the time Michelle arrived. Her turn soon manifested on the road, the now-familiar marquee above the building greeting her for her third night at the Discovery Zone. As she pulled into the parking space beside the facility, Michelle's breast was filled with mix of wonder and tense anticipation. She could only imagine what this stint would hold for her and the machines within.

Michelle entered the building, locked the door behind her, and made her way through the dingy corridors that led to her office. She noticed the place took on a sort of grungy look than what she had observed when she came to visit before closing time on her first day, its assorted filth becoming more apparent in the quiet, distraction-free atmosphere of the night. Once again, she found it unsettling; that was, until the silence was broken. As she turned from the kitchen to the back-end hallways of the restaurant, she could faintly make out the sound of yelling a room away. Michelle made off for the source of the sound, the paleontology exhibit. Peeking around its corner, she found her culprits: Dan and Tracy. Dan was hunched over, his hands preoccupied with something Michelle couldn't see, while Tracy stood next to him, her arms folded and an irritated expression on her face.

"Well of course she ain't gonna do her chores if you keep scarin' her off like that!" Tracy growled at Dan.

"I asked her calmly before, she still ran off and cowered in the Hatchery!" Dan barked.

Tracy closed her eyes and groaned. "Of course," she muttered. "Damn Sheila's afraid of her own shadow." She looked back at Dan. "Still, ya can't keep acting like a bloody tyrant and expect us to want to do our work."

Dan stood up and quickly swiveled to face Tracy, getting very close to her. "You don't have to want to do your work," he said through clenched teeth, his tone conveying the closest thing to a rage Michelle had heard from him. "You just need to do it." He turned back to whatever he was working on. "Speaking of which, the tables need washing. Get to it." Just as quickly as he had become angry, he had settled back down, even sounding somewhat disinterested.

Tracy growled. "Fine," she said.

Tracy turned around and stormed out of the exhibit. On her way, she lashed out, knocking a plastic model of a fossilized egg off of its pedestal. Dan didn't even give her a second glance. He simply got up and went to put it back in its place.

Michelle sighed and returned to her route to the office. Though upset with what she had seen, her mind fell specifically on Sarah - clearly the subject of the conversation she had just witnessed. Nobody else fit the bill for being so timid that they would flee when given the most simple orders. Poor girl, Michelle thought; so shy and unconfident, even towards her fellow animatronics whom she lived and worked with.

Michelle had to interrupt her thoughts when she reached her office. She entered and turned on the old computer. She needed to forget the ugly altercation she had just witnessed. It was just her, the cameras, and a pink box filled with joy. With a ginger touch, her fingers lifted the edge of the container slightly, allowing the sweet steam to flow into the room. She reached for a glazed doughnut, leaned back in her chair, and took a bite. Immediately, her worries melted away, replaced with a self-indulgent bliss that was all too rare for her in the past few years. Whilst savoring her treat, she felt, for the first time, a small sense of satisfaction in her new job. Sure, it wasn't glamorous and the pay was low, but it was, if nothing else, interesting. Troubled as the robots may have been, they made for engaging company. She held a desire to figure them out, maybe even try to help them.

As she thought about the animatronics, Michelle couldn't avoid once again thinking of Sarah. The Triceratops worried her. Sarah had been so tactful with the children during closing time, how was it she seemed incapable of communicating with her peers in the slightest? Michelle thought about how Tracy was able to vent about her grievances during their conversations, despite being unable to do the same with her colleagues; perhaps Michelle could do the same with Sarah.

Michelle decided she would pay Sarah a visit - after finishing her doughnuts, of course. Still, she had to ponder whether or not she could actually help the Triceratops. Michelle had rarely seen that level of anxiety and timidity in actual people, much less an animated animatronic; this might be above her station, as it were. With each bite she took and the sweet goodness they brought, her mind went to a place she hadn't considered: though she was slowly coming to know the motley crew here, was it really possible to get them over their issues? Judging from just how obstinate Tracy was in her opinion of Randy as well as Dan's general disinterest in anything not business-related, she began to wonder if their personalities were as static as their pre-recorded lines. They had only had their "lives" for such a short amount of time that it was questionable if they had the capacity to adapt to the reality of their situation.

Michelle finished the last doughnut she was able to consume in a single sitting without feeling sick, licked her fingers clean, and checked the cameras for Sarah. It took a few cycles to find her but eventually Michelle took notice of a lonely horn poking out from the lower corner of the daycare area feed, Sarah herself taking a quick glance out before returning to her hiding spot upon becoming aware of the camera. With a small sigh, Michelle prepared herself for an uphill battle. Lifting herself out of the office chair, she took a gaze of the now opened box, four of its occupants liberated. With a look of odd inspiration on her face, she decided to take one of the doughnuts with her. Perhaps the best way to fight irrationality was with more irrationality.

Michelle soon reached the toddler area, lovingly/cheesily dubbed "The Hatchery" complete with stylized sign. The room was done up like a meadow, soft green carpeting simulating grass, smooth little mountains painted on the walls. There were a number of toys strewn about, more than likely left there by the last few children of the day as well as a number of promotional posters, some yanked down from the drywall by curious hands. There was a benign chaos there, the kind of place a young child would find entertaining while their parents would rather be anywhere else. She found Sarah off in the far corner, just to the side of a craft table littered with crayons and coloring books, a look of mild discomfort to her face.

"O-oh. Hello Michelle. Is... is something wrong?" Sarah's voice was shaking but still kept her polite candor intact.

"Well, yeah. I was a little worried when you ran off like that yesterday. You looked kind of upset."

"Well, I... I just didn't want to take up more of your time than..." she paused, "...well, than I deserved to."

Michelle furrowed her brow. "Just because I work here doesn't mean I'm always going to be busy. I like talking to you guys! Makes the night go by faster. Oh, by the way, I brought you something." With a quick motion of her arm, she presented Sarah with the confection, soliciting a confused reaction from the machine. "Here, it's yours."

Sarah looked upon the ring of pastry as if it were some alien creation, gazing at it from all angles.

"W-what is it?" she marveled.

"It's a doughnut. I thought you'd like to try one."

"You... you really thought that much of me? After I ran out on you?"

"So you're a little shy," Michelle said with a shrug. "Not like that's the end of the world or anything. Besides, I was just happy to meet you. You seem interesting."

Sarah fumbled the doughnut around in her plasticine hands for a short bit, small bits of sugar sticking to her outer shell. "So... what do I do with this?"

"You eat it. Granted, I don't really know if you can though."

"Not really. We have tried though. The kids always try to share their food with us so eventually we wondered what taste actually was. The most we can really glean is the basic texture of what goes in. Still, I really appreciate you taking the time out for that."

From her motions, Michelle could tell that Sarah had calmed down quite a bit. The grin formed of plastic teeth felt genuine and the Triceratops stood in a more relaxed manner rather than her usual tense stance.

"So," Michelle started, "this is where you work during day shift? It's kinda cute."

"The Hatchery can be a really nice place. The kids can be a handful at times but... seeing the smiles on their faces when I play with them really makes it all worth it. It honestly makes me wonder why I can't do that for anyone else here." Sarah's face took on a more sullen tone as her bluntly clawed finger traced along the doughnut's edge. "I see my partners every night and wonder why I can't be like them. Dan's efficiency and business sense. Tracy's boldness and drive. Randy's charisma and confidence. I... I just don't have anything like that to call my own. I can't help but think that maybe something's just... defective about me."

Michelle's brow furrowed as her head began to nod along to the beat of her processing thoughts. "I think I'm starting to get the picture here. What's really eating you is that you always go on what you think your friends see you as rather than what's actually there. In Tracy's case, you kind of turned it into a self-fulfilling prophecy."

Sarah's eyes turn towards the floor, her voice becoming heavy. "So there is something wrong with me..."

"Whoa whoa whoa, you stop that right now!"

The Triceratops was quite visibly shocked at the sentiment, face turning upwards with an audible whirr. "I... beg your pardon?"

"Sarah, that's what's causing everything. You always think the absolute worst thing is going to happen which is why you avoid people. They want to be your friends but you're too afraid of them to try. You're not defective or anything, you're just... scared."

"You... don't see anything wrong with me?"

"Well... I'm not a person who'd put the words 'Randy' and 'charisma' together in the same sentence but that's splitting hairs if anything. You've just gotta get out there and try to work with them rather than just assume things will go south."

"I think I understand. And Randy really does have a way with words, despite most of them being jokes or one-liners. He works hard on them; I've watched him practice on stage from time to time." The tip of Sarah's tail began to swish about as she spoke of him, a motion that did not escape Michelle's gaze. "Even when he's cleaning, he always seems like he's having fun somehow. Randy just has this way of not letting anything really get to him, even despite Dan's lectures and Tracy's outbursts. He just keeps smiling through it all."

There was an almost uncharacteristic aura to the animatronic as she spoke of him, her near static face seeming to glow a bit while extolling Randy. Thus Michelle realized that Sarah had near completely forgotten she was there, lost in thought over a dorky, diminutive raptor. There was something Michelle found incredibly cute about the idea of a robot having her first crush and it took a fair bit of will on the night guard's part to stifle a quick giggle.

"You seem pretty enthralled with him," Michelle continued. "Does he know how you feel?"

Sarah's eyes widened and her smile faded as she snapped back to reality. "Well, I... I think he does at least. Maybe... I'm not entirely sure."

"Have you talked to him?"

"...No."

"Sarah, come on. I know it's a little hard to just go up and start a conversation out of the blue but-"

"Uhm..." Sarah interrupted, an odd departure from her usual mannerisms. "I haven't spoken with Randy but... back when his friend started visiting, he took the time out to to find me and introduce me to him. I mean, he could have just gone on his way but Randy actually came looking for me. He must care, at least in some small way."

Michelle couldn't help but find the sentiment endearing, if a bit short-sighted. Still, she thought, this was the most she'd gotten Sarah to come out of her shell; best not to jeopardize that. "You know what? I think you're going to do just fine Sarah. Oh uh, quick question. Who was that friend of Randy's you mentioned?"

"Oh, he hasn't introduced you yet? Oh, right, he hasn't been here since you started... Uhm, if I remember correctly he should be coming over tomorrow! I'm really sure you'd like him."

"So, someone else knows about you guys and your... dang, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Sapience?" Sarah chimed in.

"That's the one. I'm honestly surprised that anyone else is aware of it; this place clears out quick at night."

"Oh, you'll see when you meet him. It was a pretty big surprise for us as well."

"Well, that's not cryptic," Michelle muttered, words dampened with light sarcasm. "Guess that'll be the highlight of tomorrow's shift."

"Oh, before I forget," Sarah started, a bit more confidence in her modulated voice. "I wanted to thank you for the doughnut, even if I can't really taste it. More than anything, I really appreciated you coming to look for me, especially after the fit I threw last night." With a ginger motion reminiscent of the grace Michelle saw from her on the first night, Sarah inserted the pastry into her maw, inner workings grinding and gnashing it into tiny bits, many falling from the gaps and joints in her legs. "I have to admit, I've never had something with that kind of texture before. It's like a pillow made of bread."

"Glad to see you enjoyed it! Made a bit of a mess, from the looks of it though."

"Oh, don't worry. We've learned to mash things up small enough so that most of it makes it through. I might have to open up my legs to brush them out a bit but nothing more than that."

"I can help you with that if you'd like," Michelle offered.

"O-ohh no, that's unnecessary. I-I can handle it. No need to trouble yourself."

From how Sarah had begun to stumble over her own words, the Michelle knew she was still quite easily flustered despite the progress they had made. Still, any advancement was welcome and Sarah did seem legitimately happy during their talk. With a polite bow and a smile that looked to carry a large amount of relief, Sarah took her leave, a small but noticeable trail of crumbs following her. Michelle guessed that the machine had developed a bit of modesty about her body, strange as it was for a singing robot to have concerns like that.

While making her way out of the Hatchery and back towards the office, Michelle took some time to get a look at the complex that wasn't incredibly compressed and staticy. There were a fair number of children's drawings posted up on the walls, ranging from blobs one could only tell apart by color to surprising levels of skill for a bunch of soda and whimsy-filled kids. The tiling carried footprint markings on the edges of the hall and the wallpaper was done up so that the stripes were actually elongated bones.

As the night guard finished her approach to the office, a very unfamiliar bang of metal echoed throughout the building, as if something large yet hollow had been struck. Thinking it had been one of the other dinosaurs, she made her way over to the near-fossilized computer and moved through the camera feeds, looking for the disturbance. Strangely, the bots were all accounted for, Dan in his motions in the arcade, Tracy fixing the tables in the dining hall, Sarah cleaning herself out in Parts & Services, and Randy slacking off in the kitchen. When Michelle pulled up the service entrance feed however, she knew this shift might get a bit complicated. The familiar light of a cigarette burning could be caught towards the left of the feed, pixelated wisps of smoke flowing upwards. The owner seemed to be a fairly young male looking far too comfortable on property he didn't belong on.

"Aw crap," Michelle uttered under her breath, a pang of disbelief and frustration hanging onto it. She had honestly hoped that this was going to be a do-nothing job. Still, this was in the job description after all; no sense in complaining.

Now that that the situation was upon her, the night guard came to realize that she had no real way to assert her authority here outside of a uniform and what might be a lead badge. A stern talking to or an angry motion might work on patrons but won't do anything to drifters. Looking around the shoebox she called an office, Michelle spotted a long black flashlight propped up against the far corner of the room, its view usually obscured the computer and the table as she comes in. The device felt quite heavy in her hands, boasting real metal and the engraving "PROPERTY OF DINO DAN'S" as if needing to make itself known. She pushed forward the flat switch at the front, bringing forth a shine brighter than she expected, light flooding the small room a bit before stopping the power. It wasn't the most intimidating thing, but if the situation turned sour, she had her weapon.

The walk towards the back door was not a pleasing one, butterflies cavorting in her stomach the entire way as the night guard's brain tried to process all of the possible outcomes of this.

Opening the front door, Michelle was greeted with the sight of four dark figures. All young adults clad in dark hoodies, they stood at varying heights, though each was taller than her. Every one held a bottle or a can in their hand, lazily disguised with crumpled brown bags. Initially conversing with each other in a raucous fashion, the four of them fell silent when Michelle stepped out the doors of Dino Dan's, turning their attention towards her.

Michelle cleared her throat and puffed out her chest. "Excuse me," she said in her best attempt at an authoritative tone, "I'm going to have to ask you all to vacate the premises. This is loitering, and I will call the police if you don't leave." She gulped. Michelle couldn't shake her nervousness, and she could only hope that wasn't too noticeable.

To her dismay, the two furthest from her began to chuckle. They motioned at each other and murmured something inaudible to Michelle. The one closest to Michelle moved toward her, lowering his bottle hand. Instinctively, Michelle raised her flashlight and shone it in the man's face, causing him to recoil. The light revealed his features; he had long, dirty blonde hair complete with a scraggly beard, thin features, dark brown eyes, and crooked, yellow teeth.

"God dammit," he muttered, averting his eyes. He took a step back.

Michelle moved her flashlight around, getting a good look at each of the drunkards. Behind the blonde was an emaciated-looking bald man with a bandage on his cheek that was too engaged with his drink to care about her. To his left was a fat man with dark hair, keeping his hands down and his eyes trained on the blonde, waiting to see what he would do. On the right was a young woman, similar-looking to Michelle, but with red hair and a more unkempt look. All of them looked to be in their late 20s or early 30s, had almost ghoulish visages, and were taller and more imposing than Michelle. She was not optimistic about her situation.

"This is your last warning," she asserted. "Leave now, or I'm calling the police."

The blonde stepped back up. "Yeah?" he said. "And what are they gonna do?"

The other three stepped forward as well. Michelle's legs started to weaken, and she could feel cold drops of sweat on the back of her neck.

"Um..." she muttered, trying to think on her feet. "Well..."

Off the corner of her eyes, Michelle caught the bald man taking another swig of his drink. She was struck with an idea, and shone her light on the blonde man's bottle.

"Drinking in public," she exclaimed, a tone of newfound confidence in her voice. "That's a crime."

"And?" the blonde responded. "Ain't no felony. It's a slap on the wrist."

He belched, causing Michelle to wince, but the sight of his teeth gave her another thought. She lifted her flashlight up to his face once more.

"Jesus, fuck off already!" he growled, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Sure, that may be a misdemeanor," Michelle said, ignoring him, "but with those chompers you got there, I don't think the cops would have trouble believing me if I added a couple extra things to my story."

He glared at her through the gaps in his fingers. "Bitch." He turned around. "C'mon, let's beat it."

The four took their leave, the blonde looking back at Michelle to give her one last glare before disappearing into the darkness. It wasn't until then that Michelle noticed she had been holding her breath for several seconds. With a deep exhale, Michelle relaxed, her tensed muscles and rigid posture returning to normal. She returned to the restaurant and made her way to her office, eager to get back to her box of doughnuts. She was just about to open it when a series of knocks struck her door. Slightly annoyed, she shifted over to the door and pressed the button to open it.

"Ah, hello, Miss Night Guard! How goes the shift?"

Dan stood in front of Michelle with his arms behind his back and a big, fake grin on his face.

Michelle furrowed her brow. "What do you want?"

Dan pushed past Michelle and stepped into the office, surveying Michelle's work station. Michelle kept a glare focused on him all the while; if he touched that box of doughnuts one time...

"I saw it all," he said.

Michelle's expression shifted to one of confusion. "What? Me and Sarah?"

Dan shook his head. "No, no, no. That job you did outside." He turned around to face Michelle, offering her his hand. "Good work out there!"

Warily, Michelle accepted his handshake. His grip was too tight, causing a slight bit of pain on Michelle's part. Still, she accepted the positive reinforcement. It was the first bit of pleasantness she had seen from Dan since she started the job.

"Those thugs," he said, "they're trouble. Got to keep them away."

"These guys a regular problem?" Michelle questioned.

"Well, not them in particular," Dan said. "But this part of town has gotten to be a bit... less savory, over the years. It's why we hired you."

"It wasn't always like this here?"

"No," Dan said quietly. His tone had changed from faux-enthusiastic to solemn, even somewhat wistful. "For a while, we didn't need a night guard. Locked doors were enough to keep the place secure during off-hours. Then that nice little corner store down the block was robbed, and management made their decision from there. It's been an honest shame to watch this neighborhood slowly turn over the last few months. The turnout's been slowing down because of it. "

Michelle took a moment to ponder this; she had been wondering why, if the business was doing poorly, the company would spend the extra money to hire her. They must have had to weigh their financial issues against the potential security risks of being located in such a declining area and ultimately decided the latter was more important. Most likely both problems had the same cause.

"So, is that why you have the others doing those chores every night?" she asked. "I did find it a bit odd that even the janitors are gone before I get here."

"That one is two-fold, Miss Night Guard. The first being that the current staff doesn't seem to hold the same quality of standards as I do, haughty as that may sound. The second however, is a much more amicable sentiment. Tell me, have you ever wondered what it is like to lead the type of existence we do? To think, feel, and imagine but never with the people we were designed to? There is very little in this world I wouldn't trade away for just a minute, a single solitary moment to interact with a child with the same candor and equivalence as I do with you and my peers. Such is why I strive to keep this facility, my facility, in such pristine order. So that even if only the pre-set routines can meet the youth during the day, the signs of our thought can be felt regardless. It's a hollow victory, I admit, but it will be one I continue to seek."

The night guard was quite taken aback with Dan's sudden honesty. Sure, it still contained his obnoxiously unwarranted self-importance but it actually stemmed from him trying to fill in his role as caretaker. "So, what's it been like," Michelle asked, "waking up and everything?"

"The first few weeks were strange to say the least. It started as a slow burn; the patron search activating at times it had no reference to, records of days past returning to us without our memory being accessed externally. I started thinking in a primitive state, mostly just scenario followed by response like the day program but soon I began to be able to take options outside of the preset responses, actually qualifying the stimuli I responded to. Bit by bit, our identities began to shape themselves, and eventually I settled into my niche, maintainer of the small world we call home."

"But then why don't you try to share that world of yours with the others?"

"Because Miss Night Guard, the business comes before all else. It was what allowed us to surpass our mechanical limits, gave us purpose, and became the primordial soup for our self-images. Given the crises facing us, I believe you can see why my focus is so directed; I am not about to let the source of our livelihood become extinct. It's the same reason you value your employment here, is it not?"

As much as Michelle wished she could refute the Ankylosaur's claim, the need to keep her job was one of the main reasons she faced up to the drifters earlier. Dan was blunt, cold even, but she couldn't deny that there was something true to his argument.

"Well then Miss Night Guard, I do believe our time is up for tonight. I'll leave you to finish your shift in peace. I would like to thank you for your service tonight in keeping this establishment safe and look forward to your continued efforts. Do have a nice day."

Dan took his leave, proudly strolling out of the room, quietly humming a song. It was a far cry from the bitterness he had exemplified earlier in the night.

Michelle's head hurt. She trekked back to her office, ready to indulge in another doughnut. Between Sarah's neuroses, the delinquents outside, and Dan's cold disposition, she needed something sweet. She went to her chair, plopped herself down, and opened the pink box on her desk to peer at her selection. After a moment, however, Michelle closed the box and pushed it aside. She had lost her appetite.


	4. Week 1, Night 4

It was quite the exasperating sight that met Michelle as she pulled into her parking space, the familiar side wall of Dino Dan's Discovery Zone now emblazoned with profanities. There was very little grace to the lettering; breaks and jumps in the characters signalling either shaky hands or watchful haste. As she stepped out of her hatchback, the faint scent of aerosol loitered in the air, the calling card of a message recently left. With a harsh sigh and a look of consternation, she entered the facility in search of supplies. The graffiti was right next to the door she came in through; there was no way she could claim ignorance of it with her mostly unseen superiors.

Michelle made her way to the maintenance closet, seen many a night through the security feeds. Having actually entered the room for the first time, she finally got to realize how small it was. The camera angle trumped it up but in reality, it was no bigger than her office and the large amount of resources it held brought the space to near claustrophobic levels, made worse yet by the air within it, thick with dust and difficult to breathe. After a period of rummaging through the near endless bottles, she struck metaphorical gold: a rather dusty bottle of industrial grade paint stripper. Opening the lid, she was met with one of the rankest scents of her life, akin to battery acid mixed with old shoes, causing her to gag slightly. She began to have second thoughts about the situation but there was no avoiding the writing on the wall. Grabbing a pair of heavy gloves and a somewhat imposing looking steel wool brush, she made her way back outside and began the daunting task. She lamented not bringing a coat; the night guard expected to be inside the stuffy restaurant all night, not cleaning paint outdoors. Not only would she be cold, she would be risking ruining her uniform. As if she weren't irritated enough by the grafitti.

After two long hours in the cold, body racked by the wind and nose burning from the chemical cocktail, it was done. After the effort she had to expend, Michelle began to wonder if it might have been a bad idea to antagonize those vagrants last night but the light wetness of falling snow upon her urged her to seek the warmth of her office. Last thing she needed was to get sick at a time like this. As she dumped the cleaning supplies back into the tomb from whence they came, the slightly muggy air within the facility felt relieving in her nostrils. She squeezed herself into the office chair and began her nightly ritual of taking a lap through the security feeds, a welcome bit of regularity to her most irregular job. All seemed calm within the restaurant, Dan was fiddling with one of the arcade cabinets and Sarah was currently restocking the bathrooms. Oddly enough, Tracy was in the entrance area staring out of one of the windows, a very uncharacteristic look upon her metallic visage, one of emptiness, the gaze of someone wishing they were far away. What could have crushed her mood so thoroughly?

In the midst of her musing, the night guard picked up on something out of place: a clicking sound, familiar and yet strange, coming from the far end of the building. A clasp was being undone. Someone was opening the service door. Thoughts began to race in Michelle's head as a cold sweat formed upon her brow. Did she leave the door open? Did the vandals come back? Was it a burglar? Could she get fired for this?! As her hand slowly made its way over to the hefty flashlight, a pair of slightly cracking voices began to bounce along the hall.

"So how long's she been here? ...Is she nice?" Michelle couldn't recognize the voice. It was young and slightly nasal, yet soft and gentle in tone.

"Heh, trust me dude, the guard's gonna love you. Just go in there, lay on the charm, and you'll be swimming in ladies." That meatheaded line could only have come from one person. Randy must have brought over that friend Sarah had mentioned the night prior.

A series of clanking, unsure sounding footsteps came closer and closer to the office door until a light, almost fearful knocking came upon the metal. Michelle lifted her finger to the door button and then, after hesitating for a moment, pressed it.

Behind the door was a new animatronic, one foreign from Dino Dan's. He was a bat, around 5'1'' including his four-inch tall ears. His body had a wiry composition, his slim and lithe body contributing to a somewhat feminine look, with his hips and chest slightly wider than his waist. Dark, leathery wings about half a foot in length protruded from his back like a part of a Halloween costume. The rest of his body was covered in a grayish-white fur, which plumed in a soft, seemingly groomed white tuft on his chest, adding to the effeminate softness of his appearance. A short, rigid tail was barely visible behind him. His facial features carried a sort of boyish charm to them, with a small nose and bright, hazel eyes gazing up at Michelle from behind a pair of worn cardboard 3D glasses. He was smiling, but a tinge of nervousness could be detected on his expression.

"So, uhh... Hey! How're ya doing?" The bat's voice was filled with a shaky enthusiasm, a tell-tale clack of nervous fingers betraying his front.

"Well, apart from some extra work earlier tonight, things are all right. So, who're you?"

"Oh, I'm Beamz the Bat. I'm the arcade mascot for Freddy Fazbear's."

"Wait, you walked all the way here? That place is clear across town."

Before the new face could find his words, a couple of rather insistent knocks came upon the wall, at first startling him before realizing their meaning. "W-well, I'd walk a hundre-no, a thousand miles if it meant seeing your pretty face?" With a half-hearted wink accompanying the cheesy line, Beamz seemed to retreat behind his glasses shortly after, fingers laced and occasionally twiddling.

The night guard knew Randy had to have put him up to this so out of pity and a vague morbid curiosity, Michelle decided to humor the notion. "Really now, " she spoke with a playful intonation. "We've only just shared names and you feel that strongly?"

"U-u-uhm well, I mean, I've heard a lot about you from Randy and well, seeing you in person, you're very... very... pretty?" His words were shaking like a leaf and felt like they were literally trying not to fall out of the air.

Despite the act, Michelle found something legitimately sweet over the idea of him turning to mush trying to talk to her. "Aww. You're honestly kinda cute when you're flustered."

"Oh me? C-cute? I-uh- well, I guess if you see me like that it's pretty-pretty ok, I mean-" His words trailed off into a jumble of shaky syllables and nervous half-sounds as that tremor inherent to the bat seemed to intensify by the second.

"You see? Just like that!" Michelle had a light chuckle over the situation, Beamz forcing his own stilted, slightly high-pitched laugh to accompany it.

A somewhat hurried clanking filled the hall as Randy made his entrance, his usual laidback gait carrying some urgency to it for once. As he poked his head in, Beamz' laughter dimmed as he turned his head a bit in embarrassment.

"Evening Michelle! How's business?" That usual flavor of imitation charisma still tainted the raptor's voice.

"What business? It's the dead of night."

"I just figure it must be hard cornering the market on looks."

Despite how much she wanted to smack him on the nose for that gem of a line, Michelle opted to keep things placid. "Well, haven't heard that one before."

"Came up with it myself! Been tossing some ideas back and forth with Beamz for a while," Randy said with a grin. "Speaking of which, I'm gonna need to borrow him for a bit, 'k?"

"Uhh, go ahead, I guess?"

"Awesome." His attention then switched over to his Beamz. "Dude, come out here for a sec."

With a sheepish gait, Beamz made his way over to the entrance, turning to face Randy as they talked out in the hall, likely unaware of what whisper volume was. As she got a look at the bat's backside, something a bit uncanny struck Michelle. Despite being a robot made to entertain kids, Beamz carried a slightly noticeable, even voluptuous rump to him, a roundness to his hip piece that really couldn't be attributed to species design like Tracy's could. It was a bizarre part of his build that nonetheless did not fail to catch the eye. Michelle had to make a conscious effort not to look at it.

"Dude, you're breaking down out there! You gotta stay confident!" Randy was trying his best to be motivational, though at times he sounded just a mite patronizing. "Remember, you are the alpha male."

"I know, I know, but I, you know I... wasn't expecting her to call me cute." Michelle came to notice just how much more relaxed his speech was with Randy, a sign the two of them must have been at this for a while. "Just caught me off guard, you know?"

"Dude, girls are cute," Randy asserted, putting his hands on Beamz's shoulders. "We are manly. We are rugged. We have swagger. Now, I believe in you man. I know you've got that inner beast just waiting to show itself and get the girl. Now, who's a radical guy?"

"I'm... a radical guy." The sentiment came out a bit weak from the bat's end.

"Who's a radical guy?!' Randy's emphasis and enthusiasm raised along with his volume.

"I'm a radical guy!" Nerve seemed to flow into Beamz by diffusion.

"And what do radical guys do?!"

"They get the girl!"

"So go in there and get her, bro!" A weird enthusiasm had flowed out of Randy as the pep talk commenced, excitement charging his every word. If only it weren't going to such a terrible end, it would honestly be an endearing trait for him.

Beamz, newly invigorated, made his turn back into the room, eyes and hands once shaking with fear now solid, a look of optimistic determination upon his face. That newfound resolve was swiftly undermined as he looked into the softly giggling face of the night guard. Despite it, the bat steeled himself and takes the initiative, gently grasping Michelle's hand and gazing into her eyes with an intensity that honesty that felt quite odd on him.

"Michelle. We've only just met each other but something tells me the two of us go together like eggs and bacon; it takes both to make a balanced breakfast!"

At that point, Michelle couldn't hold it in anymore. The trickling giggle became a torrential guffaw, slight tears and streaks of red finding her cheeks. Beamz was quickly disarmed by the laughter, the thin veneer of confidence stripped away as he realized just how much of a stinker he put out, his own self-aware chuckle joining hers.

"Guess that was a bit of a flop, huh?"

"Like a pancake on the floor," Michelle answered, breath labored, wiping a few errant tears away.

"Please, no more breakfast metaphors," Beamz chuckled. He took a moment to regain his composure, and allow Michelle to do the same. "Sorry about that," he said. "Randy put me up to it."

"Yeah, it was kind of obvious," Michelle replied, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of the raptor outside. "You two are buddies, huh? I had heard he had somebody coming over."

"Yeah, we've been doing this for a few months now. Hard to think this all started because he tried to TP Fazbear's."

"Somebody took that whole competitive rivalry thing a bit too seriously, I see."

"Hey, it was a good idea at the time," Randy blurted in, a touch of wounding in his voice. "Besides, if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't have found out there were more animatronics out there like us."

"So you went there to prank the place and ended making friends with them?"

"Well... with Beamz at least. The others kinda don't care. The one with the hook might hate me, but I'm not entirely sure. It's kinda funny actually; the week after, this little dork showed up with Freddy at our doorstep and the rest is basically history. We've been meeting on and off for about 4 months now. I'm teaching him to be the baddest dude he can be!"

"And I'm teaching him how to actually be good at video games," Beamz chimed in with an unmissable note of smugness.

"Dude!" The cry carried a sharp exasperation to it, complete with annoyed expression on Randy's part.

"I'm just saying, that isn't your name on top of the high scores here."

"That's because I don't get time to practice with all the chores Dan gives me," Randy huffed, crossing his arms.

"Speaking of which," Beamz mused, "didn't you say you had to sweep the stage?"

"Oh, crap, yeah. I'll catch you in a bit," Randy said before running out of the room.

Beamz turned his head from Randy's direction back to Michelle. "Dan really keeps the guy busy," he said.

"So," Michelle started, leaning against the doorframe of the office, "you're from Fazbear's? I went there all the time as a kid, but I never saw you."

"Yeah, they added me a few years back when they expanded the arcade. They were in dire need of a rad dude to run it, so they put me on the crew!" Beamz briefly flashed a dorky grin.

"Any other newcomers there?"

"No, just me, Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy. None of them really bother to interact with me, I think because I'm so different from them. I'm made of a bunch of spare parts from some newer models that got scrapped a while back."

Michelle's observations about Beamz's curious design choices suddenly made more sense to her upon learning that he was a sort of Frankenstein's monster of old robot parts. Taking a closer look at him, she did notice a few small irregularities, such as some slight disparity in the length of his fingers or his subtly lopsided shoulders. They did a good job piecing him together, she had to admit, but not quite perfect.

"So you come here because you don't like hanging around with the Fazbear bots?" Michelle asked.

"It makes things more exciting, at least," Beamz responded. "It's not that I feel bad over there, it's just that it's so... quiet, on most nights. Honestly, I'm surprised Freddy lets Randy come over once a week."

"What about the other bots here?" Michelle inquired. "You get along better with them?"

Beamz put his thumb and forefinger on his chin. "Eeeh, kind of. Tracy is usually more focused on Randy than me, but she doesn't seem to hate me. Sarah likes me, I think? I don't know, she seemed kind of happy to meet me, but she dodges interaction with everyone. Dan is more like what I'm used to. He barely registers I exist."

"Eh, don't feel too bad about that. Given how Dan gets, you got a better deal than you'd think."

"Yeah, I've seen him in some of his... moods." A brief flash of discomfort passed over the bat before returning to his usual candor. "But really, I just want to at least be able to talk to him. We're designed to work with kids, ya know? We're made to read emotions, we can tell when something's eating at somebody even if they won't say it straight-up."

Michelle's thoughts turned back to her conversation with the Ankylosaur the night prior, his anxiety over the business flowing like sweat over his plasticine shell. "Oh, that. He kinda takes his role as 'face of the building' a bit too seriously. Dan basically tries to do the management's jobs for them using his partners as labor. I swear if he had a stomach, it'd be full of ulcers by this point." The night guard quickly became aware of the ire that had seeped into her voice, as evidenced by the confused look on Beamz' face, and quickly calmed herself. "Eh, sorry 'bout that. Dan has his reasons to be stressed; I'm too hard on him for how he reacts to it. Once things get a bit more normal, all things considered, I'm sure he'd be more willing to talk."

"I do remember overhearing Tracy say something about that, yeah. Think maybe if I started pitching in 'round here, it'd help, I don't know, ease him up a bit?"

"You actually WANT to do chores?"

"Well, they've been nice enough to let me chill with them as many times as I have. Least I could do is show my gratitude, eh?" The mechanical bat gave off a toothy smile, hand against the back of his head in a contemplative way.

"You know Beamz, you're a pretty stand-up guy. It's a real nice quality. Honestly, you're kind of too good to be hanging around with Randy."

"What? No. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have had the nards to actually want to come in here and talk to you. He's a bit dense at times, I'll admit, but I can't say I'm not either. Besides, he's the only dude around who comes close to being as rad as me." Beamz gave Michelle a wink and a smile.

"Sure thing, breakfast boy," Michelle countered with a slightly sarcastic chuckle.

"Gee, I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope," Michelle giggled. "Speaking of Randy though, there's something I wanted to ask you. Does he know that Sarah's, you know... interested in him?"

"Uhhh, that's a bit hard to say. He seems pretty dead set on Tracy from what I've seen."

"Not quite," Michelle interjected. "He hits on me just the same as her."

"Huh," Beamz murmured. "Well, I know he thinks about Sarah from time to time. Even talks about her every so often. Maybe he just hasn't put it together yet, I don't know."

"I know it's a little, uh, presumptuous of me to ask but do you think you could...?" Michelle gave Beamz a sheepish look.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah! Well, I guess he could use a little hint every now and again."

"Thanks for this. " Michelle smiled. "It's going to make her really happy."

"Eh, it's no prob."

A sudden hurried clanking made itself known in the adjacent hallway as Randy made his way back into the office.

"Dude, great news!" The raptor could barely contain his excitement. "My work's done and the old man is finally out of the arcade for once. You. Me. Street Fighter. We settle this tonight!"

With a look that held quite the noticeable bit of determination, Beamz turned to Michelle. "Well, I'd like to stay and chat but what can I say? This. This is my calling. It was nice meeting you Michelle. If you'll excuse me, I need to introduce someone to the Red Cyclone."

As the two of them walked away, the sound of friendly trash talk weakly bounced across the walls, fangless insults and scoffing laughter. It was a weird situation for Michelle, seeing the jockish persona Randy exuded giving way to the mentoring, almost brotherly relationship he had with a mascot from another franchise. It made her hopeful that eventually he could realize just how much of a dork he'd been.

Michelle closed the office door and plopped herself back into her chair. It was refreshing to meet somebody with some semblance of normalcy since she started her job. After the manual labor she had partaken in prior that risked making her sick, the last thing she wanted to deal with was somebody else's neuroses. As she made her cycle through the security feeds, her mind wandered back over to Beamz. Michelle had never considered the idea of other animatronics gaining sapience the same way Dan and his partners had; the sentiment felt a bit too fantastic. Whatever the anomaly causing this was, perhaps it was too beyond Michelle's understanding to be worth trying to figure out. Still, the fact that they had found contact with one another and managed to foster some kind of friendship with each other gave Michelle a bit of relief over their situation. If anything, they at least had each other. In the midst of her musing, a slow yet insistent knock upon her door dragged the night guard back into reality.

"Evening, Sheila. Care for a jaw?"

A bit of excitement struck Michelle upon hearing the all too familiar Outback twang for the first time in a while. She made a swift move for the door button, opening it up for the tyrannosaurus without a second thought.

"Hey Tracy!" Michelle greeted, slightly invigorated compared to her prior slump. "Good to see you again."

"Yeah," Tracy said flatly as she went to seat herself on Michelle's desk as she had before.

"You, uh... How you doing?" Michelle inquired, slightly off-put by Tracy's lack of her usual energy.

"Chores ain't doing me any good, I'll tell you that," Tracy sighed. "Dan's still the same old knocker, jumping up my ass as usual."

"What does he have you do exactly, anyways?"

"Picking up trash, straightening up the kitchen, sometimes mopping up a bit." Tracy reclined her head, looking up at the ceiling. "Custodial crew probably thinks it's a bit iffy somebody's doing their jobs for them, eh?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, then?" Michelle asked.

"Well, you've got Beamz and Randy hollering in the arcade," Tracy answered, a slight touch of scorn noticeable in her voice. "Bloody annoying ruckus they're always making."

Michelle leaned back in her chair. "They can't be that bad. Arcade's only a couple rooms away, I can't hear them."

"It's not really how loud they are," Tracy tilted her head back down to meet Michelle's gaze, "it's that those buggers are a pain to listen to."

"Really?" A quizzical look fell on Michelle's face. "They just sound like ordinary pals to me. Hell, Beamz seems like he brings out the better side of Randy."

"Better side..." Tracy mumbled, scowling and looking aside.

"Okay, come on Tracy." Michelle adopted a stern expression as she leaned forward in her chair. "You know, Randy might not be my favorite guy, but I'm getting kind of sick of hearing you complain about him."

"Have you listened to them?" Tracy started. "It's always 'bro' this, 'bro' that, yammering on and on and on about worthless crap! Shame to see Randy dragging that nice kid down with him."

"Damn it Tracy, can you shut up about Randy for once!" Michelle yelled. "What, do you want me to feel bad for you, because he can make friends and you can't?"

A silence followed Michelle's outburst. Tracy was staring at Michelle at first, stunned, before she turned her eyes to the ground, a shameful look on her face. Upon seeing this, Michelle's anger dissipated.

"I'm sorry, Tracy," she said quietly, looking away from the tyrannosaur. "I-I was out scrubbing graffiti out of the wall earlier, it really drained my patience. I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

"Nah, you're right, Sheila," Tracy said in a somber tone. "I just don't really get along with the other bots, you know? It's why I like talking with you instead."

Michelle looked at Tracy, a slight smile briefly flashing on her face. "Well, you just have to be willing to give them more of a chance. They react to you the way they do because of how you react to them, if that, uh, makes sense."

"I get it," Tracy replied, turning her gaze back up to meet Michelle's.

"You know, you're not too different from Sarah," Michelle remarked. "She's too scared of making friends, so she doesn't even try." She let out a sigh, pausing for a moment to think. "Look, I'm not asking you to love them. I'm not even asking you to tolerate them. I'm just asking you to try."

Tracy gave Michelle a patient smile. "Can do, 'Chelle." She dropped off the desk and stood up. "Well, I've gotta get going. Good talkin' to ya."

Michelle stood up as well, taking a step towards Tracy. "Good talking to you too," she said.

Much to Tracy's surprise, Michelle hugged her. It took Tracy a moment to react, looking down to see Michelle's head on her chest before processing what was going on. Hesitantly, she hugged back, momentarily feeling a bit better about herself. After a couple seconds, Michelle pulled away.

"See you later," the night guard said with a smile.

"See ya," Tracy said, smiling back.

Tracy left the office, and Michelle sat back down in her chair. She checked the clock on her computer; not much longer before the shift was over. She let the aging chair take the brunt of her weight as she sank into it, mentally and somewhat physically drained from another rollercoaster of a night. Part of her truly questioned if the strides she'd taken in helping the machines would ever be fruitful but the sheer hope Michelle felt in seeing Tracy so willing to try for her sake kept that uncertainty at bay. Considering what she came in to find, the night guard knew that there were some crises that may just be unavoidable but that just meant she had to keep working at the instances she could solve. The animatronics, no, the people here deserved that at least, Michelle thought.

As the computer's clock reached 6:00 am, Michelle rose from her seat, slightly wiggling out from between the embrace of the armrests. Her stride towards the exit was paused upon seeing the main entrance cracked slightly open, Beamz and Randy slightly illuminated by the streetlight just outside. The two were in an embrace, not of love but of mutual respect and camaraderie, almost akin to brothers. As the bat made his departure, waving as he went, she could make out a distinct pride within the raptor's stance and a visage of sheer contentment upon his face. She smiled, before being alerted to the feeling of something cold falling on her skin. She looked up to see snow falling gently from the cloudy sky.


	5. Week 1, Night 5

"...And also, make sure you bundle up this week, folks. We've got a cold snap coming in that looks like it'll dump around 4-6 inches of snow on us this weekend and possibly more in the coming days…"

Michelle's interest in the radio petered out at that point as the building pressure in her sinuses refused to be ignored. As a stream of mucus gently made its way down her lip, a sharp, herculean inhale returned it from whence it came. Last night's extra work wasn't without its cost, it seemed. However, the young night guard was in far too dire straits to consider skipping work over something as ignorable as a cold. Friday was payday. Sweet monetary validation was just hours away and she intended to let nothing jeopardize that. Pulling into her usual spot, she noticed a light sheet of frost along the asphalt and the opacity of her own breath after exiting the car. The coming weekend had a lot of potential to be miserable but hopefully a quiet night with the Dinos could prove that wrong. As she stepped out of the second-hand hatchback, striped muffler in tow, she shot a cursory glance towards the wall that gave her so much grief the night before. It wasn't a perfect job, but it seemed management was content with how she handled things. Michelle made her way into the facility, the rear door's handle like solid ice in her hands. Locking up, the night guard glanced at her watch. 11:57 PM. She really was getting better at this.

The building was a smaller form of comfort than she expected with only the faintest traces of warmth to be found. Seemed the higher-ups turned the furnace off at night to save money. As she settled into the office, pulling up the security feed brought about a thunderous force in her throat, a sneeze that left her winded and the monitor covered in a spectrum of spittle. With a pang of annoyance, she used the far end of the muffler to wipe it away, revealing the main stage feed. Seemed Randy was on prop duty for the night, as evidenced by the rocking solo only he could hear on that plastic guitar. The initial loop had become something of a welcome routine for Michelle, oddly soothing as she made her round throughout the complex. It brought up an interesting, if slightly confusing thought to her. The cameras were supposedly in action 24/7; surely they had to keep some of it on file if only for the most mundane of record keeping. And yet none of the other staff seemed to know about or at least acknowledge the situation with the animatronics. There were multiple points where the young night guard considered coming out and telling them but realized how ludicrous the concept sounded out loud. It was more akin to the stories that used to circulate about Fazbear's back when it was shut down. Michelle decided then to stop brooking that stream of consciousness before it ended up going over a waterfall and got back to her work; given what she had learned over the week, it raised some very awkward questions.

Dan was holed up in the arcade as usual, and Sarah was actually visible on camera for once as she cleaned the kitchen, but there was no sign of Tracy. Michelle waited for a moment, taking Tracy's absence on the feeds as an indicator that she would soon receive a knock on her door, but none came. Michelle decided to return to the cameras, fixing to locate the lost animatronic. Making her way to the last feed, the hallway between her office, maintenance, and the service entrance, she found the towering automaton, her eyelids shifted into a look of uncomfortable anxiousness. It seemed she was still reeling from that heavy bit of insight Michelle dropped on her the night prior. Thus Michelle decided to intervene. She had just pulled Sarah out of a rut; she certainly didn't need Tracy filling the leftover gap. Michelle stood up, the arms of the chair needing their usual persuasion away from her pelvis, and made her way outside to find Tracy, arms crossed and one leg triangular with the wall, lost in thought, the machine's voice not more than a husky whisper.

"No, that wouldn't work," she mused breathily. "'Hey Shiela! Sorry for being a straight dipstick last night but let's let bygones be bygones eh?' ...Nah, that's too desperate. Maybe I should sandwich the apology between some compliments, get her mood up first."

"Or you could just talk to me, you know," the night guard's peering head chimed in.

Tracy was startled by Michelle's sudden appearance, letting out a modulated screech sounding like some strange portmanteau of a car peeling out and a roaring bull. "Criminy, Chelle, don't do that!"

"What… What even just came out of you?"

"You know, I'm not entirely sure. It just happens once in awhile. Prolly just something weird in the voice box." After a brief moment of reflection, she shifted to a sheepish expression. "Uh, how much a' that did you catch?"

"The last attempt. You're really kinda overthinking this."

"Eh, maybe. But you were right. I might have been putting too many tickets on myself."

"...Uhm."

"Ah, right. Yank land. I was acting like I was too good for the lot of 'em."  
"To be fair, you still might be the easiest to work with; all you needed was a bit of self-awareness. So what's got you so worked up tonight?"

"Well, I kinda wanted to ask for your help. I want to give the others a chance but..."

"You don't want to end up biting their heads off?"

"...Too right."

"Alright, let's see what we can do. I mean, Randy's right there on stage-"

"Chelle," Tracy interrupted, a slight look of exasperation about her. "Baby steps here. You're asking me to jump hurdles."

"No to Randy then. Well, there's always Sarah."

The Tyrannosaur looked away awkwardly.

"What's wrong now?" Michelle inquired.

"I've uhh... said some things in the past. Some of which I'm not sure if she was in earshot for. A couple of which that shouldn't be repeated, much less uttered in the first place. Might not be for the best."

"You want to deal with Dan then?" Michelle asked flatly.

Tracy's face began to shift through a series of emotions, most of them disgust.

"Sarah it is. Come on, let's go."

"I'm kinda enjoying the conversation though. Can't we just shoot the breeze for a bit?"

"No," Michelle asserted. "We're going to see Sarah. Now."

Michelle turned Tracy around, placed her hands on the Tyrannosaur's back and began to push, forcing her to walk.

"C-C'mon Chelle," Tracy stuttered, "you d-don't need to do this!"

"Don't worry about it," Michelle replied in a deadpan tone.

Michelle finally stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, much to Tracy's relief.

"Sit here for a second," Michelle ordered before entering the room.

Tracy did as she was told and stood there, listening to what Michelle was up to. For the moment, all she could hear was footsteps and mumbling. She considered fleeing, but was too nervous. She knew she wouldn't be able to avoid a lecture from Michelle later on if she did so anyways. Tracy closed her eyes and took a moment to relax her servos. Michelle was right, she had to do this. More for herself than anyone else.

"Tracy?" Michelle called from within the kitchen. "You can come in now."

Still somewhat hesitant, Tracy followed the command. She entered the kitchen to see Michelle standing next to a visibly tense Sarah Tops, one hand resting on the animatronic's shoulder to make sure she stayed where she was. Tracy actually felt a touch of relief in seeing that Sarah was just as anxious about the situation as she was.

"Alright, have at it," Michelle said.

Sarah squeaked in surprise as Michelle patted her on the back to signal her to move forward. The moment she looked at Tracy, her eyes immediately darted toward her feet.

"Hi, T-Tracy. How are you?" she whispered near-inaudibly.

"Just... fine, I s'pose." Tracy's eyes seemed content to lie on the other side of the room.

A loom of muted animosity and pregnant silence began to weave between them, each either too wary or even embarrassed to take the initial step. The clack of plasticine fingers rubbing against one another was joined by the slight swishing of an unsettled tail.

"Are you two even going to try to work this out?" The night guard's growing annoyance made itself known even through the filter of her blocked sinuses.

"It's a bit neglectful on my part," Sarah began, the clack of her joints becoming increasingly more prevalent. "I didn't really think of anything to talk about. This was kind of a... spur of the moment idea."

Michelle gave a phlegmy sigh, resigning to her fate of moderator for the meeting. "Jeez, sometimes I think it might be easier dealing with the caffeinated kids. Alright, let's get this ball rolling. Tracy, isn't there something you need to talk to Sarah about? Apologize for?"

"Aww Chelle, we just got to the well; let's not poison it already, eh?"

"You want to make friends? Sometimes it means owning up to what you've done. Now go on."

The Tyrannosaur's eyelids shut tightly in an expression of something her limited machinery couldn't properly portray, some midpoint between exasperation and shame. A release of air echoed briefly in the space as she opened her eyes and began to speak. "Sarah, I... I've been an absolute mongrel towards you. I was just so damn tired of trying to know you but only finding empty space or a couple of short words around a corner. I just couldn't get it; why was I reaching out to you and everyone else just to get ignored? Eventually, I just got tired of trying and got really bitter. Said some… pretty uncouth things, thinking you either wouldn't hear or have the spunk to come after me for 'em. And 'til Chelle came along, I was enough of a galah to think that was all right. I didn't want to do this tonight; I don't feel like I've earned it yet."

"I'd heard some of what you've said," Sarah began, her trembling fingers balling into the tightest fists her child-friendly design would allow. "And to be honest, I wish I were as bold as you, to be able to defend myself. But... I agreed with you. I can't deny that I brought this on myself. That I was so terrified of what you and everyone else thought of me that I just avoided you all together. You three were the only people I knew in this world and all of you seemed so sure of yourselves while I was just this jumbled up mass, hoping I could find something in myself to focus on but… couldn't. I felt defective compared to all of you." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And what good's a broken machine?"

A grim sense of understanding struck Tracy at the sight of her crestfallen peer, eliciting a remorseful expression on her part. "Sarah, come on now, you're not broken. A bit dodgy sure, but who wouldn't be when we treated you like that? We should have at least tried harder. There are only four of us after all. Like it or not, we're all we've got at the end of the day."

"You're not just saying that because Michelle's here, right?" Tracy looked anxiously at the night guard, who was watching them with a calm but stern look.

"Despite the prodding, no. This is all me. I'm sorry Sarah. I know I'm in no position to ask this but I'm hoping that eventually you can find it in you to forgive me. That maybe we could start fresh and take the opportunities both of us ignored."

Sarah was quiet for a good while, her eyes scanning the aged tile flooring before rising up to meet Tracy's slightly hopeful visage. "If you can find it in you to look past all of the times I've disappointed you and the others, I'm sure we'll be able to make this work. I don't want to keep being afraid of you or anybody else, Tracy; if anything, I just want everyone to be happy. It's what I'm built for, after all."

The two machines exchanged brief smiles over the sentiment, relieved to have come to an uneasy but genuine understanding. Michelle stood against the far wall, nodding subtly as she watched the scene unfold, a look of placid contentment to her.

"Alright then, it's getting late," Michelle spoke up. "I kinda need to get back to my post before the old man has another friggin' conniption. Can I trust you two to keep this going if I'm not here to prod you?"

"I think we might be okay," Sarah replied. "You go on ahead." She turned back to Tracy.

The two animatronics shared a look which seemed to mark an uneasy but optimistic truce. Contented with such progress, Michelle gave the duo an approving smile and strolled out of the room. She had no desire to spend her entire night guiding the duo through a conversation, though she missed having a distraction from her poor state of health as soon as a heated cough came up to remind her about it. Her symptoms had only gotten so bad just before her shift, and she had neglected to purchase any non-drowsy cold medication.

Suddenly, Michelle began to feel a pressure creeping up her sinuses, causing a sense of urgency to strike her. She ran for her office, weaving through dark corridors, hoping she could reach it in time. She attempted to suppress the building sensation, but to no avail. Finally making it through the last hallway, Michelle bolted toward her desk and yanked the tissue box away from its resting place next to the computer. She just barely had time to put the soft paper up to her face before the painful sneeze let itself loose. Miserable as she felt, at least she hadn't made a mess of herself. Michelle took a brief look at the tissue before tossing it out, disgusted with its contents. She was sick of being sick. She just wanted to go home. Alas, she still had hours left to go.

Michelle decided it was best to just relax for the rest of her shift. No more worrying about feuding robots for the night. She sat in her chair, reclined, and shook the computer's mouse to awaken it. Best to just relax and pay minimal attention to the cameras, she thought. Michelle mindlessly clicked through the feeds for some time, figuring that anything serious would catch her attention. She didn't bother to spend time observing the animatronics; Tracy and Sarah were no longer talking, and they all seemed to be working on their own chores as usual. No more excitement, just as the night guard wanted. After some time, her eyelids began to feel heavy. Even if she hadn't done anything physical since the previous night, the cold had exhausted her. She did not want to fall asleep on the job, but resisting so was too much effort. Her eyes closed.

Out of nowhere, a series of violent coughs rose through her throat, jerking her out of her relaxed state. The accompanying pain in her chest served as a brutal reminder of her condition. She cursed herself mentally for ever having bothered to clean up the graffiti.

"Feeling a bit under the weather?" A deep voice sounded from outside the office.

Michelle jumped in her chair. Turning around, she found the source of the voice to be none other than Dan, standing in the office doorframe with his arms behind his back.

"Oh." Her surprise quickly turned into vexation. "Hey."

"Hello to you too, Miss Schmidt," Dan said as he walked into the office.

Michelle's eyes widened. He actually remembered her name?

"Um, anyways, yeah," Michelle said, realizing she hadn't answered him. "Just came down with a cold." She sniffled for effect.

"Yes, we have to deal with that a lot this time of year," Dan mused. "The kids love playing outside, even when it makes them sick. And it doesn't stop them coming here at all. It's admirable, their dedication to simple fun." He stared wistfully into space.

Michelle couldn't help but roll her eyes at Dan's waxing philosophical over everything. "Yeah, they really don't care," she said halfheartedly.

"Yes, but quite the opposite for you," Dan said, turning to Michelle. "I knew about the graffiti yesterday. I was around when those hoodlums defaced company property, though I dared not attempt to intervene. Then I saw you going out with the cleaning supplies and coming back later with a red face and the expression of a well-worn, dedicated worker. I wanted to express my gratitude for your diligence and commitment to this company." A rare, proud smile made its way onto Dan's face as he commended Michelle. "Good job."

"Oh. Uh, thank you, sir," Michelle responded, taken aback by Dan's show of praise. She could feel a bit of blood rushing to her cheeks. "I'll.. I'll keep it up."

"Yes, very good," Dan said, turning away to leave. He took one step forward, but then stopped in his tracks. "The cold…" he started. "...It is most unpleasant, isn't it?"

Surprise struck Michelle yet again at Dan so suddenly becoming personable after four days of being so strict. She was almost tempted to respond to his remark with a quip about how he should know all about unpleasantness, but she chose to remain polite. If he wasn't being hostile towards her, she wouldn't be hostile towards him.

"Yeah, it is," she replied. "I should have dressed warmer. Figured this place would be better insulated."

"You mustn't forget to take care of yourself, Miss Schmidt," Dan said. "At least you can do something about it… Low temperatures, they hinder my movements. The joints don't work as well when they get cold."

"Does the same thing happen to the others?"

"No," Dan said with a sigh, turning around to face Michelle again. "The rest don't weigh as much as I do, being so tall and large. Tracy has the height but she didn't need to be built as wide to fit her casing."

"You guys really are more advanced than the animatronics down at Fazbear's," Michelle remarked. "I remembered them all looking pretty much the same, 'cept maybe Foxy."

"Yes, we spared no expense. We were entering a market essentially cornered by Fazbear; distinguishing ourselves early was what allowed the business to grow so rapidly. Tradition is often overlooked for what's currently occupying the limelight, after all." Although subtle, the night guard managed to hear the cold, almost bitter undertone to his remark. "But I digress. The nuances of management are best left to those within it; it's our jobs to do what we must to keep the machine moving. Speaking of which, I must be going; morning preparations will be starting up in only a few hours."

The mechanical Ankylosaur made his way back to the door in his usual lumbering gait, each pair of footsteps accented by the drop of his supporting tailpiece. Just as he cleared the doorframe, Dan ceased his motion.

"Miss Schmidt. Do take the time to take care of yourself. The entertainers here have come to appreciate and depend upon you. They'd be heartbroken to see you any more worse for wear at their expense. You have a nice day."

"Uh, you too," Michelle said awkwardly as Dan strolled out of the office.

Turning back to her computer, Michelle was relieved to find that her shift was nearing its close. Her mind drifted to thoughts of warm soup, cold medication, and her first paycheck in the mail. She scanned the cameras mindlessly as she daydreamed, not bothering to take mental note of what the animatronics were up to. She had looked out for them enough for the week, and though she had grown an attachment to them in the short time they had spent together, she was eager to start her weekend.

As Michelle's shift ended, she gathered her things, shut down the computer, and left the building. She made her usual walk towards her lonesome hatchback in the small parking lot, but stopped for a moment before entering her car to brush away the snow that had fallen on it during the course of the night. She got in her car, started it up, turned on the heater in vain hopes that it would start warming her up before she got home, and drove off. As she exited the parking lot, however, something caught her eye: in an alley between two buildings across the street, somebody wearing a hood seemed to be staring at her. It was hard to tell, but it looked to be the same hoodie worn by one of the people that were loitering outside Dino Dan's two nights prior. Suspicion began to arise in Michelle's head when a sudden sneeze caught her by surprise and derailed her train of thought. Whatever it was, she thought, it wasn't as important to her at the moment as getting home and getting better. If anything happened, it was the day shift's problem. Michelle drove away fantasizing about the warmth of her bed and the taste of chicken soup.


	6. Extra Chapter 1

The walk had taken on a different atmosphere with the descending snow, the usual dull thud of Dan's counterweighted tail replaced with the wet crunch of fresh powder. Snowfall had increased significantly as of late, contributing a harsh beauty to the night. Although tiring for the Ankylosaur, the monthly trek to Freddy Fazbear's had taken on an oddly ritualistic, almost sacred nature. The idea of knowing there were other beings out there who knew of the fantastic circumstance he and his partners were bound to spurred Dan beyond his usual conservatism. He was joined by Randy, the diminutive raptor acting as navigator and spotter for the journey. The two carried a rather strained relationship; Dan wearing a resentment of the rebellious youth on his sleeve while Randy found him too stuck in his ways to move forward but they were willing to put things aside, at least for one night a month. Two thirds of the way through the walk, Dan stopped for a moment to rest on a bench, wiping away the snow coating it before seating himself.

"Just give me a moment," Dan sighed, relieving his strained hydraulics.

"Come on, Pops!" Randy whined. "We're almost there!"

"Can't you just wait a minute?" the exhausted Ankylosaur groaned.

"I've been slowing down to keep up with you all night! At this rate, Beamz and I will barely have time for one round of Street Fighter before we have to go!"

Dan closed his eyes and let out yet another sigh, waiting a moment before propping himself back up.

"So damned impatient..." Dan mumbled wearily before resuming the journey. "You'd do well to follow the new night guard's example."

"Who, Michelle? Dude, even SHE has her limits. I heard her blast Tracy about something the other night and our bodacious drummer hasn't been the same since. She's been kinda jittery about the whole thing." Randy paused to ruminate. "Actually, it kinda makes her hotter."

"Hrm... I was wondering about that. Still, just the slightest bit of patience goes a long way, Randy. I'm not built as streamlined as the rest of you; this is a lot harder on me than you'd think."

"Ooh, I'll have use that one on you the next time I get kitchen duty. I'm not 'built' to reach high shelves, after all."

"Smart-aleck," Dan grumbled as he continued on.

After the hour's trek, the two found themselves in the back lot of Fazbear's, the top of Freddy's hat on the marquee just peaking over the building. Per their custom, the back door was slightly wedged open by a pizza slice prop. The pair made their way into the hall, removing the wedge as they entered, hinges aching for lubrication moaning as the door closed behind them. Though Dan disagreed with some of Fazbear's design choices, he couldn't help but find certain things charming in their own way: nearly every square inch of the walls were covered in the drawings of children, the checkered tile hearkening back to older, simpler times, banners of golden stars hung with care on the ceiling, and that one quirky shade of purple used for the party room that one could remember but never really name. Waiting for them within were Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie, the current showrunners. Foxy, once a major attraction, tended to keep to himself after his damages. After being softly decommissioned for the disrepair brought on by his running and crashes, the once proud captain kept to Pirate's Cove. Freddy was waiting at a table set up next to the western window, a rather mild, almost contemplative look upon his face, while the girls were making their exit, chatting with one another. Seeing them, Randy couldn't help but try to utilize his trademark "charm."

"Evening ladies," he began, oozing cheap charisma. "Been a while. Missed us? Missed me?" He wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt at seduction.

"...Randy," Bonnie muttered under her breath as she passed, her disdainful tone clashing with her soft voice.

"Go get hit by a meteor, you little creep!" Chica's discontent was much more visible as she brushed past him quite strongly to get through.

"They'll come around eventually, just wait and see." Randy said, smiling to himself.

"I'm bound to disagree with the sentiment," Dan added dryly.

"Eh, that's just your ancient attitude talking. Well Pops, you and Business Bear have fun talking shop. I'm sure it'll be rad."

The sound of light footsteps against tile made itself know from the side hallway as Beamz made his appearance, a bit sheepish after a quick glance from Freddy as he came in.

"Oh hey Randy! And uhm, good evening Mr. Dan! You guys are a little late tonight."

"Blame the fossil, not me, man. Besides, we've still got plenty of time for me to school you."

"Well, you do teach me a lot of interesting words when you lose."

The look of shock upon Randy's face at the statement was almost pained before being replaced by one of sheer intent. "Oh, that's it, Bat Boy. We're doing Daytona USA tonight! I KNOW I can beat you at that."

"I LET you win that race!"

"Liar!"

With a fervency only the youthful posses and the old lament, the two animatronics made their way into the arcade, barely serious insults petering off in the distance. Dan, scoffing at their sophomoric behavior, took his own path towards the small table Freddy was situated at.

"Evening," Dan greeted as he neared the table.

Freddy simply grunted in response, momentarily looking at Dan before shifting his line of sight out the nearby window.

Dan seated himself across from Freddy. "Sorry we're late," he apologized, which yielded no response from the bear. Dan joined him in gazing at the dark, snowy streets. "Some weather we're having."

"Winter is a terrible time for business," Freddy spoke up. His voice was deep and devoid of emotional expression, a far cry from the jolly, friendly image he put forth when he was entertaining. "Parents don't want to warm up the car, get their kids dressed up in their coats and boots, and drive on icy roads unless they absolutely have to. They're not going to do that so their kid can go have fun while they sit around and wait." Freddy furrowed his brow as he continued to watch the snowfall in the light of the streetlamps.

"Well, maybe things will pick up when the children get off school for winter break," Dan suggested, traces of optimism in his voice. "They'll have a lot more free time. And their parents can't put up with them forever." Dan chuckled at his own joking attempt to match Freddy's cynicism.

"I doubt it," Freddy grumbled. "Things have been going downhill ever since those stories got spread about this place. Neighborhood hasn't gotten any better either. And I don't see that changing anytime soon."

"So, uh, things have been exciting for us this past week," Dan said, eager to discuss something more upbeat.

Freddy turned his head toward his guest. "Lot of customers?"

"Well, n- we, um- management hired a new security guard for the night shift," Dan stammered. "Yes, her name is Michelle. I was unsure about her at first, but she has proven to be quite devoted to the company." A prideful smile found its way on Dan's face. "Why, just earlier this week, some hooligans defaced our property with libelous vandalism, and she went right outside in the freezing cold, without any prompting, and cleaned it all up herself. Even got sick from it, but she still kept working. That is a true mark of dedication right there."

Dan was beaming, but Freddy's expression remained blank. He was simply staring at his hands resting on the table, lost in thought.

Dan's smile faded. "Erm, so, how have the others been? The boy, Beamz, how has it been having him around?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Freddy's attention returned to Dan. "Ah, well, the others have been fine. Bonnie and Chica have been going about their own things as usual. Don't see Foxy too much. Beamz yammers on about things to me sometimes but I honestly cannot say I pay much attention." Freddy's eyes moved to the entrance to the arcade across the room, where he could hear the laughter of the two youthful animatronics within. "He's excitable, I suppose. I don't pay him much mind."

"Well, you should use that energy!" Dan suggested. "Put him to work, get this place in top shape. It'll be good for him to learn what labor is like."

"Why bother?" Freddy asked. "Look at this town. Look at this business. You know things aren't getting better."

"You're too pessimistic," Dan said dismissively. "It's just a bit of a lull. Flowers don't bloom until the harsh winter is over."

Freddy could not help but roll his eyes at Dan's attempt at poetry. He looked out the window once more, taking a few moments of quiet to think of something to say.

"Tell me, Dan," he said, drawing the Ankylosaur's attention. "Would you need a security guard if things weren't so bad?"

Dan searched his mind for a retort, but nothing came to him. He sat in silence. Eventually, he too returned to watching the snow outside.

"You have to come to terms with this eventually, Kylo." Freddy's words carried a hollow tinge to them, an echo within him rather than his own voice. "Our glory days are over. Best to just accept that rather than struggle against a foregone conclusion."

The slightest of twitches found it's way into Dan's hand at the thought, his index and middle finger softly clenching. "I have to try, at least. I owe the children that much. I owe the business that much."

"Well then," the bear answered, his usual distant flatness returning. "I wish you the best of luck in that."

On that note, Freddy returned his gaze outward to the streetlight-illuminated lot, his grim sarcasm chained about them. There the two remained, staring at the cold white powder falling from the sky for minutes on end, contemplating their plight.

After quite some time spent with no exchange of words, Freddy rose from his seat. "It's getting late," he said. "You should get going."

"Yes..." Dan mumbled, needing a few seconds to pry his eyes from the snow and return to reality before getting up himself. "Well, I suppose we will be seeing each other in a couple weeks." Dan stretched out his arm for a handshake, which Freddy reciprocated. "You have a good night."

"You too," Freddy said, though his tone lacked earnestness.

The two parted and went their separate ways, Freddy leaving the room and Dan approaching the arcade entrance.

"Randy!" the Ankylosaur called. "Time to go!"

"Aww, man!" the raptor's voice resonated within the room.

Dan waited impatiently for a few moments as Randy made his way out of the arcade, a look of thinly veiled frustration on his face, as Beamz waved goodbye.

"I take it that your match with him ended as usual."

"D-don't you start giving me that too, old man! He just knows the machines better than I do."

"Don't we have the same ones back home?" Dan teased, a low chuckle in his voice.

"Well, maybe if I didn't have to spend so much time doing chores, I would get more practice." A distinct pout came to the raptor as he delivered the statement, his eyebrows pitching down dramatically.

"Well, you could always win next time, as unlikely as it may be. Now come on; we must be going."

With that, the two of them made their way out of the building and into the white landscape once more, snowflakes coming to rest upon their shells. Despite Freddy's warning echoing within his mind, Dan found himself slightly emboldened by his rival, his gait a bit more swift.

"Huh, you're in a good mood tonight," The raptor observed from his forward position, a pang of curiosity in his tone. "Usually by this point, you'd be whining about your ankles. Something happen between you two tonight?"

"Oh not much. We just had... a talk about the future, is all."

"You two are as boring as ever, I see," the delinquent raptor sighed, his footsteps crunching in the snow.

"Eh, you know how it is. We old men can be stuck in our ways." He chuckled lightly to himself, trying to ignore the bleak reminder of what may come. It just meant he had to try a bit harder.


	7. Extra Chapter 2

With a low rumbling groan, the aging hatchback's engine went silent, an inert hunk of metal and rubber amidst the white-covered ground. It was parked nearly bumper-to-bumper between two other vehicles, in front of a cracked, icy sidewalk before a large, lifeless, hickory-colored building. Michelle made her way out of the car, newly acquired groceries in hand and taking note of the soft crunching at her feet, hoping that Spring could come early this year. It was already hard enough to park in the shoebox-sized spaces without nature's tarp obscuring everything.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon in Michelle's complex as many were at this time of year. Folks mostly kept to themselves and barring that, the sweet if noisy warmth of their furnace was as good an excuse for reclusivity as any other. The front lobby was deserted save for some rather disinterested looking teenager whiling away time on his Game Boy and a janitor lost more in whatever tinny sound was piping through his headphones than his work. With a cursory look over to the wall, the young woman found that the elevator was (yet again) out of commission and with a look of exasperation upon her visage set the paper bag of goods atop her clavicle and began her long trek up the stairs. The four flights made for a daunting trek but given the leaps and bounds she'd already given at work, this wasn't too much for her to complain about. At the very least, being unable to afford many groceries meant fewer things to carry.

As she hiked up the staircase, Michelle's memories began to stir, dredging up the recollection of her stint at the department store and the near gargantuan orders and deliveries they had to process every week. In many ways, she was glad to finally be free of the place despite the financial bane it placed upon her as of late. Security was proving itself to be a much more suitable job: fewer annoyances (well, maybe at least), stable hours, and the seldom appreciated benefit of being able to verbally assault someone and not be in the wrong for it automatically. The latter had proven itself to be a sticking point for her after an altercation with a rather perturbed customer led to an exchange of words that have no place in any civilized person's vocabulary, leading to her expulsion and a very unkind case for her at the Unemployment office. It was a solid month of anxiety until she'd found her new job and with it a whole new slew of worries.

After a shaky turn of her key in each of the locks, Michelle carefully stepped into the apartment, making sure that the groceries that survived myriad stairs would endure the next few feet. She gingerly placed the paper bag down upon the counter, staring almost proudly into the rather sparse selection of foodstuffs. As she removed her coat, Michelle surveyed the home which she occupied. Undecorated white walls halfway through the process of turning yellow. An aged set of furniture consisting of a dark green recliner, a dusty bookshelf, and a scratched wooden coffee table holding a stack of old newspapers. A small cabinet with a rabbit-eared CRT placed atop it in the corner of the room. Wood tiling covering the entire floor, both in the living room and her miniscule kitchen, which was barely large enough to hold her refrigerator, stovetop oven, and a sink filled with dirty dishes. They would have to continue waiting for later.

With dextrous care, Michelle began unloading the parcel, the white bread having managed to make it home still pristine from the trip. A decent sized package of spinach followed with a few fruits accompanying it were removed after, following a few once-overs to check for obvious bruising or rot; a dent here and there wasn't much of an issue but soft spots were always a problem. Finally she came to the big items, a half gallon of premium corner store whole milk and a packet of lower-end ground beef large enough to last the week and possibly beyond. Despite the modest selection, there was an honest catharsis behind it, her first purchase outside of outstanding bills with the funds from her new job. In the midst of her mirth, the recently common feeling of loose mucus from her sinuses trailing onto her lip returned, her cold always retaining its ability to appear when entirely unneeded.

Making a quick trek across the apartment's ancient flooring, Michelle took up post in the bathroom and blew her ailing nose with a resounding honk, reducing the tissue to slightly leaking tatters. She threw it out in disgust. Michelle motioned for the light switch and flipped it, causing the bulb above the mirror to begin humming for a couple seconds before finally illuminating. The light made it evident to Michelle how badly she needed to get around to cleaning her bathroom. Toiletries were scattered all around the counter, a couple small globs of toothpaste were stuck to the surface of the sink, even the edge of the curtain which surrounded her cramped bathtub was stained light brown. She would have to save the tidying up until she herself looked better. Observing herself in the mirror, she found bags under her eyes and redness lighting up her nose and cheeks, contrasting with her sickly pale complexion. Already the skin just under her nose was coarse and irritated from using so many tissues. Less visible was the heat in her throat and sinuses, a discomfort second only to the constant pressure she felt inside her head. She felt about ready to die, but looked like she already had.

Michelle opened up her medicine cabinet and sifted through its mostly-expired contents. Her eyes passed by the Tums and ibuprofen before settling on the cold syrup she had purchased the other day. She shuddered as she placed her hand on it, recalling what it had felt like going down the day before. Still, it was better than spending all day filled with hot phlegm. She opened the bottle, poured a sufficient amount of the liquid into the cap, plugged her nose, and drank it all down. Immediately she began coughing, the flow of air stinging her newly-cleared throat. She turned on the faucet and gulped down some water, eager to rid herself of the medicine's vile taste.

Michelle gave herself yet another look as she closed the medicine cabinet. It wasn't just her face that appeared worse for wear. She lifted her shirt to find a slight bit of flab protruding from her belly. She cursed her affinity for sweets. With what she spent on the donuts a few nights prior, she probably could have bought a couple meals worth of vegetables to steam up or throw into a soup. Not being able to hit the gym in her state of fatigue wasn't helping. Such thoughts reminded her of how much her body ached. She hit the lightswitch once more and returned to her living room to find something off her bookshelf to lie down with.

The perusal found little that truly interested her: a few paperback novels from high school that had been read and re-read to the point of disrepair, a couple of "How to Fix Everything!" books in case of emergencies, and a few tomes too dusty to even make out their spines. Out of a growing boredom and a touch of morbid curiosity, she removed the furthest left book on the bottom shelf and blew, the wisps of ancient material filling the immediate space and doing nothing to help her already ailing nose. As the cloud subsided, Michelle came to realize that what she held was not a book but rather an old photo album, the leather bound dust jacket beginning to crack and yellow with age. The sight of it brought the memory flowing back to her, the day when she moved out and her mother entrusted one of the family's photo collections to her in case she ever felt homesick. A pang of shame began to well up in her breast upon the recollection seeing as it had been years since she had even thought about the gift; it just blended in too well with the rest of her potpourri of decor. Carrying the binder almost akin to a beloved pet, she decided to retire to her bedroom with it and indulge in the renewed nostalgia.

Michelle entered her room with the album in tow and looked around. The place was just as cluttered as she had left it, the closet filled with carelessly-folded clothes and the desk littered with miscellaneous tax forms and unfinished applications for scholarships she knew she didn't qualify for. She plopped down on the old spring mattress which took up about a third of her living space and turned on the lamp which rested upon her nightstand. Opening the cover of the album brought her the scent of old leather and a far, far off smell of some undisclosed spice. The first few photos were yellowing Polaroids of Michelle's early life including her first birthday and a trip to her grandparents' house when she was still in pigtails, the faintest memory of their house out in the country and the far too big portions they gave her with every meal. A growing girl needs her vitamins, her gran would always say if her parents raised an objection to her methods. Another page turned and she found herself at the beach for the first time, sunglasses too large for her head and an equally goofy smile upon her lightly sunburned face. Another page and years had flown by, this time showing Michelle her ninth birthday party, held at none other than Freddy Fazbear's, her and a group of children she can't remember or even recognize lost in the chaotic euphoria of the arcade, the mechanical mascots in back having lost some of their charm via the lens of age. Seeing this remnant of her childhood brought an awkward thought to her mind, however. Knowing now what she did about Dino Dan's and the all too apparent decline of things, Michelle began to experience a guilt she couldn't quite come to grips with. Granted, it was her parents who ultimately took her to cavort and eat overpriced and yet simultaneously underwhelming pizza at Freddy's, but what could have happened had she seen the Discovery Zone's building and decided to go there instead? Would more of the partygoers be interested in Dan's after? Bring their kids and/or relatives out of familiarity? It was an irrational train of thought, of course, but it was one born from all too real concern. It was only her first week with the animatronics but the emotional rollercoaster serving as its undercurrent felt so much longer. From Randy's high school jock persona hiding a surprisingly tolerable if narcissistic person, Sarah's fear of judgement and subsequent self-isolation, Tracy's tired detachment and hopeful orbit of Michelle, and Dan's obstinate but ultimately well-meaning command of the restaurant weighing in her mind, it was harder not to care about them now.

With another paged turned, Michelle saw herself as a young lady slowly blossoming into the woman she had become, the pigtails banished in favor of a banged look she'd tried (and quite quickly got tired of) in middle school, the smile still there but a bit more demure. The next turn brought her teenage years and the natural rebellion brought on by the assumed grandeur of age and the whorl of hormones pumping through her. This was her tomboy phase, the long acorn hair cut short into a sporty bob look, the skirt and blouse maligned for ripped jeans and t-shirts. With this little window into her past, she couldn't help but be a bit embarrassed over what she once considered "her." Still, the bravado of that phase of Michelle's life never truly left her and was more than likely what would influence her headstrong ways.

The next turn brought a sobering end to the gallery of golden days, the last two thirds of the book empty and the photo sleeves emaciated, begging for fulfillment save for an index card taped to the top of one of the slots carrying a message written in slightly smudged red ink.

"We made sure to leave you plenty of room to fill this with the memories you'll make now that you're out there on your own. And if you ever miss us or the old days, we're only a page turn away. Always thinking about you, Mom and Dad. P.S., We've always wanted grandkids! Hopefully we won't spoil them as much as your grandparents did you. No promises though!"

A dark circle began to form on the card as Michelle found herself overcome with a profound, almost putrid flood self-loathing. If only her parents could see her now, she thought. All of those hopes they had in her gone to waste on a girl who couldn't even be bothered to look through a gift given in earnest. Who couldn't be asked to go out and make something of herself. Who hasn't done better than a shoebox apartment out in the sticks and barely anything to her name. As her head hung, the tears streamed down and broke gently from her chin, droplets striking the plastic sleeves of the book and her bedspread. Outside, a light snow had begun, the first crystals sticking to her bedroom window forming a mosaic upon the pane. And as she rained inside, the young woman at the edge of despair swore that tomorrow was another day, and with it she would make it a better day for her and the dreams she once held dear.


	8. Week 2, Night 1

That lonely trail of streetlamps along the road had quickly become a comfort for Michelle, a rock of routine amidst the surges of absurdity both around and inside her. The weekend had proven itself quite a sobering experience for her, memories of goals long sidetracked and ignored bubbling back to the surface from their abyssal hideaway. There was a wounded resolve to Michelle on this night, the challenge to surpass her own inadequacies in the hopes of finding a more ideal life or at the very least a better outlook on her efforts in this world. She had awoken a couple of hours early to vigorously clean and organize her shabby apartment, something which made her feel equally satisfied and exhausted. She hoped her coming shift would be as lax as the majority of the preceding week had been. The hatchback came to its usual place behind the facility, headlights aglare upon the painted slate exterior before being extinguished, replacing the harsh yellow with the muted halogen glow of the service entrance's bulb. The night guard stepped out from her trusted vehicle, enjoying the slight bump in temperature after last week's front. Though a bit foolish of her to assume so, Michelle entered the building considering it an omen of good fortune for the coming shift.

It was 11:58 as she booted up the computer, once more squeezing herself into the office chair before it, the security program slowly coming to life and baring feeds of the facility's nooks and crannies for her criticism and concerns. The introductory sweep had brought little that she wasn't expecting: Sarah was off in the Hatchery trying her damndest to sort through the myriad toys provided either by the building or its guests, Tracy was tending to the band's "instruments," which were more than likely just hunks of shaped plastic, and Dan was looking oddly wistful as he gazed out the main storefront, seeming to just watch whatever wayward car made its way down the road. Michelle felt a pang of concern for the ankylosaur for the briefest of moments before realizing that she had come up a head short. The diminutive dork must be having another one of his adventures, she surmised. There had always been something about the concept of Randy and Beamz coming and going to visit each other that the night guard couldn't fully grasp. Granted they aren't as huge as Tracy, but surely someone had to notice a man (well, young man) sized dinosaur walking the city and back by this point. Furthermore, how was management seemingly completely unaware of any of the fantastic world she'd stepped into? Were they just assuming that the janitors were doing everything while said employees shirked their duties knowing that someone was handling it for them? It would honestly put Dan's never-ending stream of housekeeping duties into perspective, to say the least. So many questions swam through Michelle's brain, none of them answerable with anything more than theories based on pure conjecture. She clasped her forehead with her right hand. This was not a good night for her to deal with such taxing thoughts.

"Got a girl fantasizing about me the moment I enter a room. Best compliment I can ask for."

Michelle's train of thought jumped its tracks as she picked up on the voice to her side, internally cursing herself for that nasty tendency she had to end up lost in her own head. As she turned, her eyes came upon none other than her missing machine: Randy, standing with his back to the wall, shades down, and the smuggest look his limited jaw movement would allow him.

"Honestly, I'm flattered. I can see it now: you lost in dreams of my awesome bod or maybe the two of us just cruising down that endless road called love."

Michelle grimaced. "Actually, I was just kinda wondering why I didn't see you on the cameras."

"Ah, I get you. Gotta play that hard to get, just to make sure I'm not some jabroni. Girl's gotta have standards after all."

Michelle's face shifted from an expression of barely-concealed disgust to a coy pout as an idea dawned upon her. "Oh, I do Randy," the night guard began. "Gotta be smart. Friendly. Cute butt would be nice. You know, a guy like…" she looked away and began stroking her chin.

"Like…?" Randy repeated in anticipation.

Michelle scooted her chair to move a bit closer to the tiny raptor as she adopted a sultry smile. "Like your friend, Beamz."

"Oh! Oh, uh…" Randy turned his head away and huffed nervously. "Well, that's good to know, but," he paused momentarily to seemingly regain his damaged composure. He turned back to Michelle. "Well, I think you can do better." His old cocky grin returned to him.

Michelle was somewhat surprised at the sturdiness of Randy's facade of virility, but decided to continue with her scheme.

"Can I?" she asked. "He's such a nice boy."

"He's cool, but he's not as cool as me," Randy replied, bringing his thumb to his chest. "Between you and me, he's a little bit of a dweeb. Me, I'm primo stuff, baby." He flashed yet another toothy smile. "Think about it. You need a big, strong man to protect you, right? Pretty little lady like you?"

Michelle used all her willpower to keep herself from snickering.

"All I'm saying," Randy continued, "is that you gotta have somebody with confidence. Machismo! You don't need sweet and sensitive. You need a bad boy. Like me."

Michelle had to admit to herself, he was indeed confident.

"Maybe you're right," she said. "Maybe what I need," Michelle leaned forward to put her face mere inches from Randy's while using one hand to grab at the collar of his shirt, "is right in front of me."

Randy stared blankly at Michelle in a stunned silence. His processor was struggling to find a return statement. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Michelle burst into laughter and let go of him, rolling her chair back to its original position in front of the computer.

"Man, I'm just messing with you!" she laughed. "You should have seen your face."

"Um, yeah, sure," Randy mumbled, still uncertain of what to do with himself.

"Sorry, sorry, that was mean," Michelle apologized amidst her giggling. "I just couldn't resist. What would a date with you even be like, anyways?"

"Ah, well first we'd… we'd…" Randy trailed off, going oddly quiet and overcome with an unsettling lack of focus. There was an almost rhythmic tremor in his digits and Michelle could make easy note of a sudden gnashing of his plastic teeth. "W-we could get a pizza," he finally managed to stammer out. "Plenty of back stock in the fridge."

"Wait a sec," Michelle blurted out. "You've used that one before. Yeah, back when I first met you."  
"What? Come on now, there's no way I'd be lame enough to reuse my patented lines on the same girl twice."

A small chill ran up Michelle's spine at the comment. It wasn't like he was human and these things could just just slip by him. As emotional as he was, Randy was a machine and the idea of him forcing that out just after his spasm deeply worried the night guard. "Yeah, maybe I just… remembered it wrong is all," Michelle lied, hoping to not do anymore harm. "Randy, are you all right? You, uh, got a little weird for a second there."

"I don't know, actually." That impetuous sneer she had become all too familiar with was gone, replaced with a voice that seemed to crack under its own weight. "That's just never happened before. It's like I reached in for an answer and… nothing. Like there's this gap in my head or something. Has that ever happened to you before?"

"Well yeah, sometimes we just don't know things or don't remember. Memory isn't a perfect thing. Kinda sucks in that regard, to be honest."

"I don't get it then. Everything in my head tells me I'm supposed to know this, so why isn't it there? I mean, I'm a bonafide ladies' man! This should be as easy as breathing for me."

"Come on, it's not that serious," Michelle replied, hoping to deflate the situation. "You're just having an… off day is all. Relax a bit. For my sake, alright?" She cringed a bit internally at the comment but knew it was her best shot at soothing his troubles.

After a brief pause and a hissing mechanical sigh, she could see the new tension in his frame start to leave the raptor. "Well… I can't exactly say no to a babe, much less you."

"Thanks for that. You were getting a little weird, which for you is some kinda milestone. You're sure that you're ok, right?"

"P'shaw! I just had my one union-regulated spaz out. I'm still the same bodacious dude I'm sure you've fallen head over heels for."

"Yup, you're back to normal," she dryly replied, eyes in circuit.

"You say that like it's such a bad thing. Well, like…'bad' bad. Like dictionary bad, you know? Ah, whatevs. Somewhere in that sexy heart of yours is a raptor shaped hole waiting to be filled. And I'm a patient man."

The night guard blinked once in confusion before briefly shuddering at what she hoped wasn't that kind of innuendo. "Egghh," Michelle blurted out. "Suddenly, spaz you is sounding a lot more likeable."

"Don't worry babe, he's rare but he comes with the complete Randy package!" Accompanying his outburst was an air guitar pose, arms raised grasping an invisible instrument and pelvis thrusted forward. With the package line still fresh in her head, Michelle's mind went to a very confusing place, her cheeks flushing at the thought while her face stayed in its state near perpetual consternation.

"Well, you're looking about as red as I am rad! Penny for your thoughts?" His mechanical eyebrows began to raise and lower in quick succession.

"It's nothing… just a stray thought or two," she managed to blurt out, her brain still putting together what shouldn't be there.

"Aw man, you're usually so good at playing hard to get! But fine, I've obviously set your heart on fire so I'll give you a bit to cool off. Can't watch that computer if I'm all you're thinking about, after all."

"That would be nice." The words were stilted, almost squirming as they came out of the night guard.

"Gotcha babe, catch you on the flipside." With a saunter that oozed fake charisma, Randy made his way out of the office, stopping briefly to give a finger gun motion towards Michelle before he left the door frame.

After his exit, the night guard sat there for a few moments, somewhat a mess internally. Though glad that she was able to diffuse the raptor's rather unsettling episode, Michelle couldn't help but feel a bit disgusted about the mental picture his recovery put into her head and her own brain for putting together his double entendres. She needed to refocus, to put that awful image of his… motions… out of her head. The night guard returned to her computer, perhaps the only machine in the restaurant incapable of judgement. 2:45 AM was the counter's readout as she made a round of the displays, trying to force the normalcy back into the night. A curious sight caught her as she rounded the Hatchery camera, however. It seemed that Sarah had gathered up all of the toys in the playroom and was orating to them for some reason. Perhaps in practice for something. With a sigh and a twisting motion to free herself from the perverse arms of her chair, the night guard said goodbye to the usual routine once more and headed off to investigate.

Walking through the darkened halls of the restaurant, Michelle thought back to how she had felt unsettled in the place the previous week, and how that feeling was no longer with her, even though she was walking through what could have been the setting of a Goosebumps book. She felt a sense of security within the walls of Dino Dan's, both for the nostalgia over her trips to Fazbear's and how she felt that she was growing to understand her nighttime companions. They may have been a dysfunctional bunch, but at least she could talk to them. It was more than she had experienced with any people she had worked with before. That probably reflected poorly on her, she thought, but that was a matter to ponder another time. Michelle stepped up to the entrance of the Hatchery to find Sarah pacing in front of her audience of toys.

"Sarah?" Michelle called.

The triceratops jolted in surprise before turning to the archway where the night guard stood, awaiting permission to enter.

"Oh! Michelle! You-You caught me off guard. Give me a second, I was just, uh," Sarah paused, her eyes darting back and forth, "putting the toys away."

"I saw you talking to them on the security camera."

"Oh." Sarah stared at her feet and rubbed the back of her head. "Um, you can come on in."

Michelle walked in and surveyed the row of trinkets Sarah had set up to give speeches to. "So, what's all this about?"

Sarah sighed. "Do I have to tell you?"

"No. But I'd like to know."

"Well… I was, erm, practicing talking." Sarah looked at Michelle briefly, but quickly opted to avoid eye contact. "To Dan."

"To Dan?" Michelle repeated, eliciting a nod from the animatronic. "What did you want to talk to him about?"

"Well, I wasn't going to go confront him about anything. I just wanted to be able to… stand my ground, if he's mean to me again."

Michelle lit up. "Well, good for you, girl!" She gave Sarah a playful, light punch on the arm, which the triceratops did not seem to appreciate. "Sorry. But that's great that you're doing this. I think a little bit of confidence can really improve your standing with him."

"You think so?" Sarah asked, her voice carrying a hint of cautious hopefulness.

"Yeah! Dan responds to outgoing behavior. You show some grit, and he'll respect you for sure."

Michelle put a hand on Sarah's shoulder and gave her a proud smile, to which Sarah responded with a smile of her own.

The smiles of both girls faltered as a set of heavy footsteps sounded from the entrance to the Hatchery. In walked Dan with his arms behind his back and a stern expression on his face, as per usual.

"Good day to you, Miss Schmidt," Dan said, giving Michelle a slight nod. His eyes then turned to the toys splayed about the floor of the Hatchery, scanning them before focusing on the triceratops. "Still not all here. Sarah, how long has it been since I told you to gather up the missing toys from the other rooms and bring them back here?"

Sarah shied away from eye contact. "Umm, a few days."

"A week," Dan said bluntly, with audible ire. "I give you a simple task, and a week later, it still isn't done. Care to explain yourself?"

Sarah looked to Michelle for some kind of guidance, to which the guard responded with a vague gesture meant to provide encouragement.

"I..." Sarah began quietly, "I… I don't need to explain myself to you!" Her face quickly shifted from nervous to slightly angry.

The outburst took both Michelle and Dan aback, but the latter was swift to recover and retaliate.

"Don't have to explain yourself?" Dan repeated. "You have completely failed to step up to a very basic responsibility, you think you there is no issue there?"

"There's a whole team of people that works here during the day! Why do you make us do their jobs for them? Why do you gotta play dictator?" Sarah shouted.

Dan gritted his teeth, his annoyance reaching a boiling point. "Oh, how ignorant you are," he hissed. "Do you have even the slightest idea of how essential it is to keep this restaurant in the absolute best condition possible? How even the smallest flaw in our presentation could alienate a customer forever? We need to do everything in our power to assure the survival of this business, of our livelihood, and you don't see the importance of doing your part?" He leaned in close to Sarah, his intense expression shattering the facade of rebellion the triceratops had put up and causing her to take a step back. "Do. Your. Damn. Work."

Sarah was cowering, her confidence gone. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered.

Dan's face eased into a condescending smile. "Good," he said. "I am expecting the toys to be in place by opening time." Contented with his results, he turned his back on Sarah and made his way out of the Hatchery.

As Dan walked away, Sarah went from looking afraid to crestfallen. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for working with people," she sighed.

Michelle, still cringing from what she had witnessed, took a second to gather herself. "Jeez, um… Look, maybe you went a bit too far. Well, not really 'maybe.' You did go too far. But that's alright, you're testing boundaries. You should keep trying, just… probably not with Dan, for now."

Sarah sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I don't know, I think he's right," she mumbled dejectedly, ignoring Michelle's uplifting words. "I'm just a screwup."

"Dan can be pretty abrasive," Michelle replied. "He has his reasons, but he still shouldn't be treating you like that."

"But he's not wrong."

"You can make him wrong, then."

Sarah looked up at Michelle, who sat down next to the triceratops.

"All you have to do is keep working at improving yourself," Michelle said. "Try being more proactive. You're on better terms with Tracy now, right? Try talking with her more, you can learn a bit about interacting with people. And maybe do some of the chores Dan asks you to, even if it's at your own pace, he'll be impressed that you exceeded his expectations." She put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Just keep at it, okay? If not for yourself, than for me. I don't like seeing you like this."

Sarah gave a weak, but genuine smile. "Sorry," she said.

"Don't apologize."

"Oh, sorry. I mean, uh…"

"I got it," Michelle chuckled. The night guard gave the animatronic a pat on the shoulder before standing up and stretching her arms. "Well, I've got to get back to the cameras. You going to be okay for the night?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sarah replied. "I'll try to make small talk with Tracy, if I can."

"That's the spirit. See you later," Michelle said, making her exit.

"See ya," Sarah said with a slight wave.

The clock on Michelle's computer read 4:30 AM when she'd returned to the office, head just slightly abuzz from the night's events. Normally, Michelle would be a bit more excited to see a shift in its death throes but given what just occurred with Sarah, she couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted. It was her prodding that led to the triceratops getting her proverbial head bitten off, after all. Her mind was a mire, the deliberations piling atop one another in rapid succession. Was it really right for her to be dealing out such seemingly informed life advice when she barely had a handle on anything herself? With the dinosaurs coming to depend on her so much, the chance of things backfiring like they did with Sarah would only build. Tracy had become a basic, if somewhat more open, shell of her former self, Randy had his strange moment, and Sarah tried to run before she could walk, causing Michelle worry that the triceratops may end up back in the shape she started in. As much as it pained her to admit it, her work with Dan was looking to be her only efforts that were panning out thus far. Granted, she had only walked into their lives just a week ago, but it really seemed to Michelle that she was helping the situation. For the moment she was just feeling a vague and an uncomfortable sense of existential dread, but she would have to ignore that for the time being. Even if she wasn't that great at it, she still had a job to do. It is the night guard's responsibility to look after the facility and its personnel, after all.


	9. Week 2, Night 2

There was a near rhythmic squeaking filling the halls of the deserted Discovery Zone on the otherwise silent Tuesday morning, the telltale whines of a wheel that had moved its last and refused to turn any longer. Michelle found herself awkwardly trying to force the geriatric office chair into a comfortable position but sadly, the western wheel had finally given out, sticking her at a rather awkward angle in her workstation, compounding the already cramped space. These were the moments where the young night guard really wished the management would take better notice of what goes on within their walls. Though, on the whole, she was glad that their blind spot gave her something pretty special to look forward to each night. As such, she decided to opt for a pragmatism her superiors couldn't be asked for and hoisted the seat out of the room. If the bots could stand for ten-odd hours, surely she could be asked for six. Plus, it kept her from having to finagle around with those snug armrests.

The clock on Michelle's computer monitor read 12:15, leaving her a little embarrassed that it took her so long to take the simplest option to resolve the chair predicament. As she booted up the DanCam system, a rather soft few knocks carrying an air of politeness came upon her door in a cadence she hadn't quite heard before.

"Sarah, is that you?" Michelle called. "You're normally not this forward."

"Aww, come on Sheila, you don't gotta rub my face in it like that."

"Whoops, sorry Tracy! I just got a little too used to your old knock. Give me a sec."

With a couple of steps, she depressed the door lock, opening it up on a somewhat confused looking Tyrannosaur.

"Eh, nighter? Why's your chair out here?"

"One of the wheels died on me so I chucked it. If anything, it'll give us more room to talk. You coming in?"

"Yeah," Tracy replied, walking in and quickly finding a spot on the wall to lean on. "Sorry I couldn't come 'round yesterday. Usual business." She scratched the back of her head, a gesture which got Michelle wondering whether or not the animatronics' imitations of human mannerisms were conscious or not. "How was the weekend?"

"Hm?" Michelle was plucked from her train of thought by the prompt. "Eh, nothing eventful, just did some work around the apartment," Michelle said, deciding not to worry Tracy by mentioning her emotional breakdown two days prior. "You were just doing chores all night yesterday?"

Tracy looked away and smiled slightly. "Well, not all night. I talked with Sarah a bit, the last hour or so before morning."

Michelle's own lips curled upwards. "Is that so?" she inquired. "The whole hour?"

"Well, I dunno how long exactly," Tracy said with a shrug, "but a good while. She told me all about the tykes that come 'round the Hatchery, we joked a bit at ol' Dan's expense, it was a right good time." Her smile turned into a full grin, which Michelle couldn't help but find cute. "She's a good girl, that one."

"That's great to hear," Michelle replied, pleased with the happiness of the animatronics and somewhat smug about the part she played in making it happen.

"Yeah, I'm thinkin' I'll flag her down again tonight, if she has the time. You're welcome to join us, if you'd like."

"I'd love to, if she'd be alright with it."

"Was her idea. Thought it would be fun to have a slumber party where we build a fort and try on your makeup. Not really my thing, but I couldn't turn her down when she was looking so excited. Like she's just another one of the tykes."

Michelle was taken slightly aback by the news of Sarah's suggestion. "She's really changed a lot in a short amount of time, hasn't she?' The night guard tried to pass off her remark as positive, but a hint of worry was evident in her voice.

Tracy noticed this, and furrowed her brow in response. "What's wrong?" she prodded.

Michelle was ready to deny any misgivings she was feeling, but she knew the animatronic would see right through her. She sighed and looked away. "I'm just concerned she's moving a bit too fast, is all. I was trying to help her be more assertive the other day with Dan, but she took it too far and it blew up in her face. I don't want her to get burned like that again. Too much and she could go back to the way she was, feeling completely alone and defective."

"Shelly, what are you expecting to happen?"

"I don't know…" the guard trailed off.

"Just relax, m'kay? Have some fun with us when you get the chance. You could use it."

"I'll think about it," Michelle said, turning her head back to face her interlocutor. "Though keep in mind, I do still have a job to do here. Can't spend the entire shift goofing off. Management wants the place to be watched at all times."

"All times?" Tracy responded. "You know you get here two hours after closing, right?"

"Wait, what?" Surprise and concern immediately hit Michelle. "Since when? Just a week ago, you guys were open right up until my shift started."

"New hours. Not enough people wanting to brave the tundra to get here, so we shut down earlier to save some dough."

Great, the night guard thought, more to worry about.

"Look, let's change the subject. How-" Michelle stopped herself as the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps struck her ear. They were lighter than the usual clank, softer in their footfalls before the sound of a shout and the clatter of plastic across tile. Michelle and Tracy stuck their heads out of the office door to see Beamz in a heap atop Michelle's upturned chair, his 3D glasses on the ground.

"You all right, ya dag?" Tracy's words were more curious than worried, oddly enough.

"Eh, I'm all right, I think," Beamz replied wearily. "Why was there a chair in the hall though?"

"It's uh… You know, it's not important right now." The night guard was quick to avoid implicating herself just in case anything happened. "Come on, let's get you up." With a quick hoist from herself and Tracy, the bat was back on his feet, still looking a bit unsettled. "Now that I think about it," Michelle queried, "what are you doing here anyway? I thought you and Randy were hanging out tonight."

"That's why I ran over; he never showed up at Fazbear's," Beamz squeaked out in a panic. "I went over all of our routes and there's no sign of him. Guys, please tell me he just took a rain check or something!"

The women shared a quick, worried look, dangerous realization in their eyes. Normally the diminutive velociraptor could be trusted to make his way there and back with such ease and frequency that his partners and eventually the night guard stopped paying much mind to the act. What if something had happened on the way there tonight? A freak equipment failure in his legs, getting hit crossing a road, maybe even picked up by some more than curious passersby - none of these thoughts sat well with Michelle. She turned her gaze to Beamz, observing a dramatic shift in the machine's demeanor. The subtle cheeriness he carried had been replaced by an air of absolute fragility, a constant tremor in his legs and an unnatural habit of clutching his first two fingers in the other hand, eyes seeming to stare off into space rather than focus on the uncertainty before him.

"Crikey, the boy's gone and chucked his wobbly," Tracy whispered to the night guard.

"We might end up chucking ours if we don't find Randy," Michelle replied, nervousness starting to take hold. "Say, do you remember when he left tonight?"

"Somewhere around… Eh, actually I don't recall hearing the backdoor open tonight. Thing's usually about as loud as that nong is short so it's one of the first things we wake up to when he goes hoofing it to the bear's."

A brief sigh of relief left Michelle's tightened chest upon hearing such. For the time being, the worst case scenario was off of the table. "All right, here's what we'll do. I'll look through the feeds and outside to see if I can find anything. Tracy, you take Beamz and go through the building; there are a lot more places I can't see than I'd like to admit."

"Should I really take him with though? He's a little more keen on you, all things considered."

"True but you'd know Randy's hiding spots better than I would. Plus…" Michelle leaned in close to the Tyrannosaur's head. "He could really use a friend right now," she whispers. "Might be a good chance for you two to… I don't know, connect? And, if something did happen…"

Tracy's eyelids lowered, giving her an expression of almost pained understanding. "Yeah, I gotcha, Sheila." The two broke off, Tracy heading over to Beamz' side, crouching down to his level. "Don't worry so much, eh? Let's me and you have a look around, see if we can't find the drongo. What do you say?" There was a slightly forced joviality in the dinosaur's voice but it seemed to put him at ease, if only slightly.

"H-he's okay, right?" There was a waver beneath the bat's words akin to that of a child on the verge of tears. "He's here, right?!"

"Strewth! We've just gotta weasel him outta whatever hole he's gone and gotten his head stuck in like a bloody emu. Come on, let's go check the dunny."

"What's a dunny?"

There was a brief moment of clarity on Tracy's part before she let out a rather exasperated breath, cursing her programmed speech patterns. "Ugh, right. Yankland. Let me show you then." With a light touch, she lead Beamz out of the room and into the hall, briefly turning back to give Michelle a rather concerned expression before disappearing from view.

The moment they departed, Michelle glued herself to the computer and into the security feed, trying to absorb every single pixel of their displays in hopes of finding the missing animatronic, sweat beginning to cascade from her forehead. Kitchen? Clear. Sarah was working on the day's leftover dishes (prompting the night guard to wonder if anyone even bothered checking on the closers), likely unaware of the situation given her relaxed demeanor. Parts and Maintenance? As crammed as it usually was in there, Michelle had her doubts that Randy would consider that a swinging hotspot. Bathrooms? Beamz and Tracy were already on it, the bat looking away in a sheepish, almost embarrassed fashion as his partner searched the ladies' room. Arcade? If Randy were there, the camera gave no indication; all that met Michelle was the glow of a random cabinet and Dan awkwardly finagling with the controls. Show stage? The curtains were wide open, revealing the platform Dan and company spent day shift performing on when they weren't mingling with the kids. The instruments looked so lonely up there without hands to hold them. Tracy's bass on the far wall, Dan's drum set in the center, and Randy's - It suddenly struck the night guard that Randy's electric guitar was nowhere to be seen. He must have stopped there at some point to get it. But why? Michelle couldn't parse out the train of thought behind taking it but her musing led to a much more tangible idea.

There are only two exits to the building: the main entrance which was promptly locked when the last employee left and the service entrance Michelle enters through every night. Seeing as there's no way he could have made it out of the front and no one had heard the back door move until she came in, there was no other option but for him to be inside somewhere. And considering that he went to the stage but didn't move past either Dan or Sarah's positions, there was only one feed he could be on: the prize corner. Or she was just jumping to conclusions but the night guard opted for a more optimistic outlook. Moving over to the camera revealed little to her at first glance, the booth holding all of the facilities various toys, prizes, and memorabilia was placed at a hard angle for the camera to view, its gaze optimized to make sure whoever was running it wasn't either being too nice to the kids or to themselves for that matter. Off in the far extreme of the image within a corner cast in shadow, she saw it. The immobile frets of a plastic electric guitar just peeking out from the booth's side. It wasn't much but it was the best lead she had.

Michelle departed the office, feeling both a small pang of pride for having memorized the building's layout so well and a germinating seed of concern for her missing machine. Randy was always the kind of cocksure dork to play things off even when they were horribly out of his favor so what if something had happened and this was his way of trying to hide it? An equipment failure maybe? All of those walks would put strain on his legs over time… She shook her head at the thought, trying not to dwell on a scenario like that. He's fine, she repeated in her head. Just keep positive. As she entered into the main stage area, Beamz and Tracy could be seen looking under tablecloths and around the stage, finding nothing but dropped arcade tokens and the occasional errant dust bunny.

"Cripes, never thought it'd be so hard to find the dill 'round our own parts. How's Sarah do this every day?" Tracy's veneer of concern was quickly starting to fade, her long-standing aversion to the raptor and his antics ebbing forth.

"Well, I think I might have something," Michelle interjected.

"Oh hey Nighter, when'd you-"

"You found him!?" interrupted Beamz with a rattled hope in his voice.

"Not yet," Michelle replied, "but possibly. If I'm right, he might be over by the prize booth."

"Why there of all places though?" Tracy mused. "He hates that job the most since he can't reach the high shelves."

"I'm not sure myself. But his guitar was there on camera and that can't be a coincidence."

"He's okay, right?" the bat interjected. "Like he just decided to take a day off right?"

"I'm pretty sure, Beamz," the night guard softly lied. "Why don't we go over and take a look?"

There was an awkward quiet between the three as they made the trek, emotions barely held in check by each other's presence, Beamz in particular seeming to carry a odd weight to his slightly misaligned shoulders. This is it, the night guard thought. What could possibly be the last night of an odd but slightly satisfying career. Where at first there was only the sound of their feet against the tile, Michelle became aware of a small but far off repetition of sorts. A few seconds of something, a pause, and then it resumes. Soon it became clearer, a voice from somewhere, speaking not to but rather for anyone.

"...and I'm the baddest dude you know!" The voice was a bit scratchy and somewhat hollow sounding as it bounced around the walls. There was a brief pause and then what sounded like the whirring of servos before it continued once more. "Hey, I'm Randy the Raptor and you're my best friend!" Another pause. Another whirr. "Betcha never heard anyone shred a guitar like me!" A series of uncomfortable looks were passed among the tro in the hall as they entered the prize area, dozens of glass and fabric eyes gazing endlessly towards the exit they may one day leave through. It was just to the right of the booth that they found the source of the voice: a plush version of their raptor equipped with a pull-string and a number of canned quotes. The being holding it was both Randy and not so, his sunglasses, jacket, and t-shirt in a heap off in the corner next to his fake Flying V, red eyes almost glazed over as he seemed to pull on the string without fail just moment after another sound bite had exhausted itself. If he was aware of their presence in the room, there was no indication of it in his motion. He just kept on pulling the string.

"Mi-Michelle? What's going on? That can't be Randy, right?" Beamz' inflection had taken on a breathy sound, as if he were seconds from tears, if such a thing were possible.

"Uhh...umm…" The night guard had found herself at a loss for words with the catatonic animatronic before her, worrying at just how much damage his incident yesterday could have caused.

"Come on Sheila, stay with us here! I don't need two of you going weird on me." Tracy had opted for pragmatism in this, breaking away and firmly grasping Randy's shoulders and staring deep into his plush-occupied gaze. "Randy, quit being a ponce and get off the floor. And gods' sakes, put your clothes back on; you look like the dog's breakfast all in the nuddy like that."

For a good while, he didn't move, the doll going quiet for the first time since they'd entered. "Please. Don't call me that." His voice had lost all the youthful sneer it once carried, replaced with an uncomfortable monotone. "That's HIS name," he continued while pointing to the doll. "Whatever tried to be Randy doesn't have a name."

Beamz let out a nervous chuckle. "Come on man, stop it. Y-You are joking, right?"

Randy continued to stare into space, mumbling something too quiet to be discerned, not acknowledging his friend.

"Okay, now you're just being being more of a nong than usual," Tracy said, a sternness cropping up in her voice. "Seriously, what the hell is this? One day you're an obnoxious pain in the arse, the next you're this contemplative sadsack? Buncha malarkey! As much as I don't care for it, you're Randy. You're that annoying teenage dork that the boys like and the gals laugh at and gets his tail flogged off by Beamz at the arcade every week."

"You see, that's the thing. I've been thinking about everything. About everything I am and everything Randy is. And I finally got a clue. There's just so much about us that doesn't match up. Tracy doesn't hate Randy. Dan and Randy actually manage to get along. Randy doesn't mess up his lines or lose at anything. There's no Beamz or Michelle in Randy's life. He's the guy all the ladies love and isn't afraid of anything. And then there's me. Walking around in his skin."

"Beamz, " Tracy started, gaze promptly directed away from the queer sight before her. "Has he ah… ever gone on about this kinda stuff before? You'd think the guy with the dishpan brain would never go off his depth."

"N-not that he's ever told me! If anything, he was always more worried about how I was fitting in with my cast."

"Strewth. Oi Nighter, what about-" Tracy halted herself upon seeing the cold sweat that had broken out upon Michelle's face now caught in an expression of long ago needed realization. "Chelle? ...What's he's got ain't contagious is it?"

"No. No, I mean I hope, I-I-," The syllables were falling from the woman's mouth like snow. "I… I think I fucked up, guys."

"Wait, you did this?!" There was a sudden harsh, almost venomous edge to Beamz inflection.

"I didn't think it would end up this serious; usually he gets over-"

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" The bat was nearly at fever pitch, the tremble of his fingers replaced with the tightest balling of his fists that his construction would allow before Tracy lowers herself down to him, placing a hand on Beamz' shoulder.

"That's enough now." Tracy's voice had taken on a surprisingly even tone. "You're concerned; so are we. But we aren't gonna bust our way outta this mess by trying to throw blame around."

"But Randy's-"

"Your friend. And our partner. So the best thing you can do for him is not let your anger decide things for you here."

The tension that had filled Beamz' frame had lessened just a bit, his gaze directed more on the floor tiles before him than anywhere else in the room.

"All right Nighter, what's the news here?"

"It happened last night. We were talking and he had a bit of a… moment. He tried to look into his memory for a good line but came up empty and for a while he was kinda odd before playing it off like it wasn't anything major. I thought he was right; I mean, who doesn't forget things from time to time?"

"Seems like a pretty far cry from what we've got here, I'd say," Tracy remarked, thumbing back at the mass in the corner.

"That's what I thought at first too but…Tracy, I've got a weird question for you. You too, Beamz. Do you two...God, how do I put this so it doesn't sound awful? Are you...aware that you're machines?"

"Considering that a seven-foot dinosaur's got no place in modern society, 'course."

"A little more than you'd know, honestly…"

"It took me a while but I think it finally hit me. Randy never realized he wasn't… well, real." The harsh bluntness of Michelle's words gave her pause, but she continued nonetheless. "Think about it for a sec. Until what happened last night, our Randy and show Randy-"

"Were pretty much one and the same, " Tracy finished, a subtly stunned look to her. "So that's why he's always been so thick in the head; he's just been doing what he's 'supposed' to."

"Indeed so."

The party, realizing their last reply was not their own, turned back to the entrance of the space to find Dan standing just within the confines, a somewhat bemused expression carried on his aging face.

"Mister Dan?" Beamz spoke. "How long have you been there?"

"Ever since you decided to disobey one of the rules of the establishment and shout in a quiet area. I've never known you for form that poor so I decided to see what the issue was."

"Great, now we've gone and stepped in it," Tracy uttered in a huff.

Michelle released a small sigh. "So, I'm guessing you heard everything then…"

Dan raised a hand for the night guard to stop. "There's no need for that, Miss Schmidt. This wasn't something I expected you to be able to handle." She felt taken aback at the sentiment but he continued on, regardless. "To be completely honest, I was hoping this wouldn't happen until a much better point in time but I never counted on how your presence here would advance things."

Dan's words were less than comforting to Michelle. "So this was my fault," she bemoaned, nervously biting her lip.

"Ah, well, not quite," Dan stumbled over his words, realizing what he had implied. "No, it was an eventuality, Miss Schmidt," Dan turned his gaze on his errant performer. "No one said this newfound sapience of ours didn't have its downsides. If anyone could be blamed for this, it would be me for not taking better care to nurture him."

For a brief moment Michelle wondered if Randy's mania was indeed infectious as she could almost swear Dan just stumbled his way into an apology.

"As it were though, let us not become too deeply concerned with hindsight." Dan turned to Randy, his expression turned steely. "Randy - and yes I'm going to be referring to you as such, so make your peace with that - I've never known you to be so frightful. Normally you've always been one to dash headfirst into your problems despite any and all consequence."

"...That was him talking then..." The response was still far off but an inkling, an underlying itch of something could be felt in the raptor's words.

"No Randy, that was you. There was a… necessary awareness that I thought fostered in you but it seems I may have been too hasty in my judgement. Tell me, do you know why I always referred to the four of us as 'characters?'"

"Because we're not really here?"

"A bit of an oversimplification on your part but close. You could consider us actors, if you would. At the base of all things, what we are are machines simply intended to invoke the image and mannerisms of those established characters of our franchise. Our consciousness may not have been intentional but as it were, it provides us with a unique, almost uncanny perspective on the situation. We are both them and ourselves, Randy."

"How does that make sense then? How do we call ourselves by names we don't own? Work in bodies that aren't ours?"

"Because we give them something they would never reach otherwise, Randy. LIFE. Without us, they have no voices of their own. No ideals, no dreams, no perspective outside of what the company writes for them."

A soft thud emanated from the floor as the Randy doll escapes its handler's grasp, eyes agape in frustrated thought. "That can't be. It… it just can't! We all have different voices! Lines specifically for each other!"

"Voice actors reading from scripts penned by writers operating off of a central idea promoted by the company. Randy, as hollow as you feel right now, the identity you're obsessing over is quite the same. 'Randy Raptor' is nothing more than an idea given shape and sound by marketing. Same with me, Tracy, Sarah, and Beamz. Even our night guard to an extent. While she's here you've come to know her as our watchful security and possibly a new friend, outside here she's Michelle Schmidt, her role changing to whatever suits her needs. We are more than our lines, our roles, and our appearances. You have the capability to be more than that idea, Randy. But it's only with you working with and interpreting that idea that it has a shot of happening."

The veneer of numbness fully shattered in what was once "Randy," his voice box straining to process the despair running through it. "But… what if what 'I' am isn't good enough to do that? To be both me and him?!"

"I can't answer that for you Randy; it's something you'll have to hash out for yourself. Lord knows there were a good few moments when I felt like I'd failed the image of Dan Kylo. But sometimes we do what we must for the sake of the people who depend on us." With that said, Dan turned from the stunned animatronic and began to walk, each step accentuated by the fall of his club-like tail as he returned to the arcade. Just before he made his exit, he stopped. "Sarah, why don't you stop hiding and try talking some sense into that boy?"

As Dan walked through the doorway, all attention was left on the quivering Triceratops animatronic hiding in the frame, her presence having gone unnoticed until then as she silently observed the proceedings. Her face, as best as it could, carried a sense of absolute terror, though she showed no inclination towards fleeing. Regardless of Dan's orders, she appeared frozen in place. Michelle, Tracy, and Beamz all stared at her, awaiting her entry, but she merely stared back with a paralyzed fear in her eyes.

"Sarah?" Michelle broke the silence.

The night guard waited for a moment to see if the animatronic would respond, but it was to no avail. Having decided that Sarah's help would be essential in getting through to Randy, she broke off from the group and walked up to the Triceratops. As soon as Michelle began moving, Sarah averted her gaze and hid herself partially behind the door frame, but did not disappear entirely.

Upon arrival, Michelle placed a hand on the frame and leaned in to get close to the animatronic, forcing her to re-establish eye contact. "Sarah," she repeated. "I don't know how long you've been watching, but you know this is bad. We need you to help here." Michelle looked into the room behind her, then back at Sarah. "Randy needs you."

With a light push from Michelle, Sarah stumbled forward, catching Randy's attention. Sarah was trembling, itching to run away and relieve herself of the weight which had befallen her, but she knew she found herself unable. For all that she loathed the situation she was in, she could not bring herself to turn her back on Randy.

"...Hi, Randy," she said with a light wave and the most forced-looking smile that her mechanical face could convey.

In response, Randy returned his view to the floor. "Hey, Sarah," he mumbled.

"Randy…" Sarah trailed off, hesitant to proceed. "...I know you've been feeling, uh, bad, about all this, but…"

Randy looked up at her from the ground once more, and in this moment, Sarah fixated her gaze on his ruby-colored eyes. Something about them stood out to her among Randy's otherwise dismal appearance, as a reminder of the vibrancy and love of life which he ordinarily carried.

Sarah steeled herself. "Randy, this just isn't you," she said. "Where's your confidence? Where are the jokes you tell? Where did the Randy who wanted to see everything outside of these walls go?"

"He doesn't exist!" Randy snapped, his frustration boiling within him. "There's only one Randy, and he's nothing but a bunch of lines of code, written by somebody else!"

Sarah fell quiet and looked at the floor, a mannerism which Michelle had seen time and time again. From the night guard's perspective, Sarah seemed to be just about ready to get up and sullenly slink away. In spite of all the progress she had made, it seemed as though the pressure of the situation was too great for the timid Triceratops.

"I understand how you feel," Sarah said, breaking the silence. "Sarah during the daytime is not me. She's confident and approachable. You could ask something of her and not have to worry about whether or not she'll actually do it. At night, that Sarah becomes me. Scared, selfish, and barely able to talk to anybody."

"How is that anything like me?" Randy interjected. "You get to be yourself at night."

Sarah looked him in the eyes. "It's not that I can't be myself," she said. "What I understand is that feeling of being trapped. Of thinking I have to be one certain way, that I'm stuck with who I am. But then…" Sarah turned for a moment to give Michelle a look. "...Then Michelle came around. She taught me that I didn't have to be that weak girl I always was. I learned to stand up for myself, to be more outgoing. And if I could change that about myself, you could do the same."

Randy processed Sarah's appeal, only to adopt a defeated tone. "I can't make that work."

"Randy," Sarah started, "look at the spot I was in. For so long, nobody had my back, nobody cared to see me improve. It wasn't until Michelle came along that I even had anybody to talk to. But you, not only are you so much stronger than I am, but you have all of us." Sarah motioned across the room, pointing at each individual who surrounded them. "Beamz is always there to support you. Michelle is there to talk to you. Dan and Tracy, even though they're tough on you, they want to see you be you. And, even if you may never notice it," Sarah put her hand on Randy's shoulder, "I'm always there to cheer you on."

Randy chuckled. "Guess I don't have any excuse, then." With that, he leaned forward and embraced Sarah, much to her surprise. "Thank you," he whispered. If not for the limits of her body, Michelle could have sworn Sarah would have gone beet red upon their connection. "I may end up needing this again."

With his confession let loose, the raptor disengaged from her and made his way over to the pile of his once-discarded props, taking them gingerly into his hands, sunglasses atop the mound hazily reflecting his current visage. There was a moment of pregnant uncertainty in the room as every being in the space awaited his next move, as while Randy gazed almost solemnly into both images of himself. His introspection was cut short however by a familiar ashen hand landing gently upon his shoulder.

"Randy?" Beamz squeaked out, nervous tension filling his voice. "How're you feeling? You're not still… y-y'know, right?"

Randy let out a sigh, seemingly just for effect. "It's gonna be real confusing for a bit but… I think I'll be ok. Maybe." The extremes of Beamz' eyebrows dipped greatly upon hearing such, bringing a bit more emotion out of Randy. "Aww, come on man. You know I hate it when you make that face."

Beamz perked up a bit. "Well yeah, 'you' always did."

There was a pang of brief surprise on Randy's face before it settled into a subtle smile. "Oh, you dork. Come on, it's getting late. We better get you back home before old man Fazbear gets angry."

"I kinda doubt he knows I'm gone."

"Well, he can't complain then."

Randy, still holding his wares, walked out of the prize corner and off towards the service entrance with Beamz in tow, a light if strained conversation orbiting them as they walk. The night guard, now emotionally exhausted, finally let go of the tension gripping her chest. She sauntered over to Sarah, who had frozen up after the raptor's hug, staring absentmindedly into space.

"Sarah?" Michelle put her hand on the Triceratops' shoulder, eliciting a startled yelp. The night guard smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"I… I'm not sure?" Sarah responded with a confused lilt. "I don't really know what just happened."

"Well," Michelle put her arm around Sarah, "I think you just saved the day with the power of cheesy speeches." She followed the words with a hearty laugh, for which she was met with a look of chagrin on her robotic companion's face. "Sorry, sorry," Michelle said as her laughter gradually let up. "But for real, I'm real proud of you Sarah. You handled that way better than I think anyone else here could have."

"I've gotta admit," Tracy chimed in with a fair bit of sheepish sound. "If you hadn't shown up, I probably would have ended up pile-driving the little drongo. All that 'self-awareness' stuff just isn't my thing."

"It's one of the hang-ups of this sapience we've been granted and it may be a long road for him yet but…" Dan shuffled awkwardly, dredging up a rare bit of self-reflection. " At the very least, you didn't make the mistakes we did, Sarah. I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness but rather your vigilance in this matter. That one may come to depend on you soon."

"Oh, I didn't do much of anything really…" Sarah looked away partially, a mild bashfulness coming over her. "If anything, I just tried to put myself in your shoes, Michelle."

Michelle patted the Triceratops' head, a sizeable, almost smug satisfaction on her face. "You fill 'em well, kid. You fill 'em well."


End file.
